Whatever May Come
by charlotteschaos
Summary: Post HBP spoiler warning Harry & Draco. The trio discover that Draco Malfoy is hidden away at Spinner's End. Peter Pettigrew is watching him and forcing him to work as a maid uniform and all.
1. Chapter 1

Harry bit his lip in order to stifle his giggling when Hermione nudged his shoulder and gave him a look. He noted, however, that Hermione herself appeared to be having a hard time controlling the grin on her face. Ron was a lost cause; rolling on the ground, face red with the force of restraining his want to cackle out loud.

Looking back through the bushes, Harry had to cover his mouth to keep from shrieking in mirth. When he'd found the information that Snape had lived in Spinner's End he didn't have much hope that the man would be stupid enough to just go home. In truth, Harry thought that this might be a futile lead, but as he had few other options, he decided to give it a shot. What he never even _thought_ to expect was the odd sight of Draco Malfoy's bony legs ungracefully sticking out of a poufy black skirt with an extravagant white tutu-like petticoat.

Draco sat on the steps of the porch, arms crossed, wearing a rather petulant expression as he glared towards the bushes. Earlier, none other than Peter Pettigrew had shoved Draco out of the house and slammed the door. As far as the trio knew, those were the only people in the house.

In retrospect, Harry decided that looking back at Hermione chiding Ron and trying not to giggle at that had been the big mistake. But he'd thought he'd heard a slap, but it turned out to be a loud smack from kissing. He wrinkled his nose at how his sensible female friend was suddenly acting so very much like a girl. She almost put Lavender to shame sometimes. It made him wistful for Ginny. He was just beginning to have a rather pleasing daydream when he felt a hand on his shoulder and was spun around to face Draco's angry, grey eyes.

"What the... _Scarhead_?" He peered over Harry's shoulder at Hermione and Ron snogging. "Ugh." At first Draco appeared angry, then shocked, then his face fixed into his usual sneer.

Hermione and Ron looked up before Harry had formed a response. They jumped up appearing guilty as if a parent or someone who actually mattered had just interrupted. Then they pulled their wands, ready to strike if Draco was going to start something.

Draco waved them off in spite of having his wand tucked into the elastic of his fishnet stockings. Harry eyed the stockings and the belt. He was only brought back to the present by Draco snapping his fingers to wake him out of it. He looked between the three, calculating something. For a moment, Harry wondered if he might yell for help. If there _were_ more people inside... well, Harry had high hopes for everyone's Apparation abilities.

After a long consideration, Draco asked, "Well? What's going on? What are you lot doing here?" He was outnumbered, out drawn, and likely there was no one to call for help. Only Draco Malfoy could stand in bushes dressed like a complete ponce and somehow make everyone else feel stupid.

"We were looking for Snape," Harry piped up.

"He's not here," Draco snapped.

"So it's just you and Pettigrew?" asked Harry.

Draco leered at Harry, his gaze scanning him like a critical predator. Suddenly, Harry was a little self-conscious about how unclean his clothing was and the stubble that was starting to form on his chin that he hadn't taken care of. "At the moment, yes."

"Why are you dressed like a maid, Malfoy?" Ron pocketed his wand and stepped forward along with Hermione, who still looked a bit sheepish at being caught in that particular position.

"I'm shocked you'd know what a maid looked like, you can't have had any experience with having one. Although I suppose that it's possible your family has spawned a few." Draco seemed pleased at Ron's lunge for him; Hermione and Harry pulled him back before he got into hitting range

"Come on. Let's just go," Hermione whispered.

Harry was torn. He couldn't forget that wavering voice, the faltering wand. He'd wondered what might happen to Draco at Dumbledore's funeral, but he had to admit that he hadn't thought about it much since then. Now that he was here and witnessing the humiliation that Draco must be enduring, he wasn't sure he wanted to leave him. He slowly peered over Draco's form, his eyes resting on his blank forearm. He blinked. "Wait."

Hermione and Ron traded shocked looks. Draco's expression was neutral. "Just go already if that's what you're going to do. Someone's bound to come out." Noticing that Harry was looking at his forearm, he quickly turned it inwards.

It was no good. Harry grabbed his arm and yanked it out to show his friends Draco's pristine arm. "What? But we saw you... you showed Borgin your arm... and he... you had a... you're..." Hermione rambled. Ron just glared at the narrow expanse of uninterrupted skin and shook his head in disbelief.

"I..." Draco started, but then the fact Harry was touching him seemed to register and he snatched his arm back and folded them over his chest. After a moment of deliberation, Draco flicked back his hair and gave a haughty sigh to add to the drama of his report, it was clear he was rather proud of himself. "It was one of those edible dark marks from your brother's store. Borgin was too ignorant to know the difference. I wasn't to be marked in case I was caught."

For some reason, this made something in Harry's stomach flip excitedly, but he tried to keep his expression grim. "Then why are you staying here when you're treated like..." he indicated Draco's clothing.

Draco looked down at his dress as if it had just appeared on his body. "Well, there is the little matter of my family who might be slaughtered if I don't play nicely. Pettigrew is obviously just enjoying no longer being the whipping boy."

Ron snorted and nudged at Harry. It was clear that he thought Draco deserved this, and Harry agreed with him as much as he didn't. Maybe a couple of years ago he would've relished this opportunity to enjoy a bit of schadenfreude. But now that he'd seen so much and because he'd been watching Draco the previous year, he just couldn't feel the glee that the others did. He heard Hermione start to say something, but cut her off. "Malfoy, you're coming with us."

"Hah!" At first Harry thought it had come from Ron, but instead, Draco was shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "As much as I'm sure you'd love to turn your ménage e toi into a full-blown orgy, I did mention that my _mother_ was at stake here? I think I'll pass."

The day had begun to dull into night and the blue hour lit up the white lacy frills of Draco's ridiculous costume as if under black light. It somehow made the scene both comical and dismal. Harry couldn't really admit to Draco that he'd been there when Dumbledore was bargaining with him. That he knew that if Draco could find a better deal for his family that he'd take it. "The Order can protect your mother."

Again, Draco laughed. Harry caught something glimmering in Draco's eyes, an extra wetness, but he lowered his head before Harry could really see it for what it was. "You're not in a position to make such an offer, Potty. No one is."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but there weren't any words that made sense. Draco had been there to see Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard, cut down right before his eyes after making such an offer. Just why _would_ Draco believe him?

Just then, the cottage door opened and Pettigrew came barreling out. The bright white of Draco's costume illuminated their hiding place and in an instant, Pettigrew making a beeline for them. "Go," spat Draco.

The moment Harry laid eyes on Pettigrew; he felt his heart grow cold. The man who had betrayed his parents, his friends, everything he believed in was heading towards them. He'd sworn revenge. Before he'd had time to even think of making a plan, his wand was out and pointed at the approaching man. He could've Disapparated, or grabbed Ron and Hermione and run. But he was tired of running. He'd left the Dursley's to make a stand and this was where it started. "_Stupefy_!"

Pettigrew's eyes were fixed on Draco, so he was quite shocked to have been hexed and stilled onto the ground. "Good one," Draco hissed. "Any _plan_ to go with that, or is this the usual Gryffindor bravery with no brains rigmarole?"

Hermione stepped forward and peered down at Pettigrew and then over her shoulder to Harry, Ron and Draco. She was biting her bottom lip, considering what to do now. Ron appeared nonplussed, but had his wand out as well. He looked warily around and asked Draco, "You're sure it was just you and Pettigrew?"

For a moment Draco looked as if he were going to say something scathing. A few comments about how many people could be packed into a house being proven by the Weasley clan percolated, but that was a decidedly impolitic thing to say to someone with his wand out and all of the power, so he bit it back. "As far as I know."

"Is the house being watched?" Ron continued.

"Evidently by you moro-- err... people. Beyond that, I have no idea." Observing Ron's look at him, he shrugged. "Sorry, they didn't trust me enough to mark me, do you think they would tell me if they were watching me here?"

"What I don't understand is why you two were here at all," Hermione broke in, after pulling her wand and mobilizing Pettigrew's body. She lifted it from the ground behind her like a shocked-looking bloated man-balloon over her shoulder. "Wouldn't this be the first place the Ministry would look for Snape? Or Pettigrew?"

"They've been here and gone. We hid. They didn't look particularly hard. Pretty much just walked in, stole a few rare potions ingredients and then left." Draco looked around one last time, as if he could see someone peering out at them. No one was there.

"Do you think that there are people in the Ministry working for Voldemort?" asked Harry as he nodded to Hermione. She started to lead the way into Snape's home, keeping Pettigrew aloft as they went.

Draco followed, fidgeting with the hem of his dress to hide his flinch at the invocation of Voldemort's name. "Do you think there _aren't_?" Realizing that he was still wearing a dress, he rolled his eyes at himself and pulled his wand. "_Finite_." He was back in his fashionable, now slightly rumpled robes.

Ron smirked as Draco caught his glance at him. "Nice legs."

"Shove off, pervert."

Ron stifled another giggle behind his hand at Draco's sneer. "Seriously, Harry, what's the plan here?" Though he was asking Harry, Ron looked at Hermione.

"We should definitely take Pettigrew into the Ministry so he can be sent off to Azkaban." Harry peered around the decrepit little cottage and finally flopped down on one of the dusty chairs like he owned the place.

"And Malfoy too?" Ron looked hopeful and sat in another chair, watching Draco switch nervous glances to each of them.

"Well, we can turn him in but he technically hasn't done anything that serious."

At this, Malfoy was aghast. "What? I cast an Unforgivable! I had Rosemerta at my will for _months_! And I almost killed Bell! I snuck Death Eaters into Hogwarts castle on my own!" Draco snapped before realizing that was terribly unwise.

"Yes, yes, Malfoy, you're _very scary_." Harry waved him off dismissively. He had other things on his mind; coddling Draco's ego was the last thing he really cared about. There were real dangers out there.

Draco looked to the other two for cries of outrage and shock, but they also appeared bored with this revelation. He huffed and kicked the corner of the couch before flopping down on it.

"Do you _want_ to go to Azkaban, Malfoy?" Harry leaned forward in his chair.

"At least I know people there. Besides, I can't help but think that the reason he set us out here. We probably weren't supposed to hide. I'd've been safer in Azkaban." Draco rubbed his knuckles into his eyes. Harry realized suddenly how tired Draco looked and how tired he was.

"Why did you hide when the Aurors came, then?" Hermione asked. She set Pettigrew down in front of a fire like an awkward, chubby bear rug and sat on the arm of the chair that Ron had settled into.

"Instinct? Or maybe because Pettigrew was hiding. I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. I guess that wears off when it's no longer useful." He looked over at where Pettigrew was set and sniffed in such a way that almost seemed like a laugh. "So you lot came here looking for Snape figuring he wouldn't really be here? That was really the plan?"

"We thought there might be leads to where he went," Harry answered. He'd pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Didn't bring your girlfriend?" Draco turned on his side on the couch.

"She's not my girlfriend anymore." He pushed his glasses back on and eyed Draco's expression. He seemed genuinely surprised. "People around me tend to get hurt."

Draco looked over at Ron and Hermione, who were looking at one another with expressions of disapproval. It would seem that Harry's choice in this matter was fairly controversial. Turning his attention to Harry, he said, "Then I'm going to have to insist you leave."

It took Harry a second to catch on that Draco was mostly kidding. "I meant people I care about."

"That hurts my feelings, Potter. I thought we had something special with you following me around all last year. I guess I was just another of your flings. Perhaps the Weaslette and I should form a support group." In spite of Ron's glare in his direction, Draco smirked at Harry.

That was an almost flirty tone, and Harry wasn't really sure how to take it. He assumed that Draco was just being a prat, but he was unsettled by it just the same. It had made that flipping twinge in his stomach happen again. He blushed and looked away.

Draco's eyes widened at Harry's reaction and suddenly he found the fireplace very interesting. He sniffed again and looked down at Pettigrew. "I don't think this will be a problem for tonight, but beyond that, if you lot are planning to stay, then we'll need a plan."

Harry shifted in his seat. "I don't think we were planning on staying so much as taking you with us."

"What?" Ron sat up, nearly unseating Hermione, who appeared uncertain.

Draco turned back from the fire and let out a tired sigh. "We've been over this. I'm not leaving. The Dark Lord could still get to my mum. I don't have the option of 'breaking up' with her."

"He's right," said Hermione. "It would put his mother and risk."

"I don't need you on my side," Draco snapped.

Ron looked murderous, but Hermione just shook her head in disapproval.

"Malfoy, you're stuck. You need our help, at least try to act civilized." Harry sat back in his chair, strange tingling feelings about Draco obliterated. But he still couldn't just leave him here. Hermione's expression told him that she didn't want to leave him either. "Look, we can give this place a thorough look over for the next couple of days and maybe in that time we'll figure something out to help your mum."

"Nothing here will tell you where Snape is..." Draco sniffed the air, cursed and then fled to the kitchen.

--

The roast was a bit dry at the edges, but overall it was better than anyone would've expected for Draco to cook. "This isn't too bad, Malfoy." Harry gave Draco an affable grin.

"It's overcooked, the rosemary burned. Anyway, it's not exactly Arithmancy, is it? Even _Muggles_ can cook." He rolled his eyes and flicked his hair back.

"Maybe the practice of making potions helped?" Hermione asked. In spite of how he'd been to her, having your family held hostage couldn't be much fun. She took Ron's hand under the table.

Ron still wasn't pleased with this, but he had to admit that maybe going through Snape's things for a couple of days might help get some leads.

Draco's eyes hardened at the sound of her voice, but after weighing his options, he decided it wasn't really worth it. "I'm sure Snape would be pleased to know that the application of his knowledge made me quite the homemaker." Ron snickered and Draco shot him a look and then shrugged and smirked at the notion.

Hermione frowned at Draco, but at least he hadn't been rude to her. Noticing that everyone appeared to be done with their food, she pulled her wand and began reciting a series of spells that set the chipped cups and plates from the table, into the sink, and then washed and to their proper places in the cupboards. That action was rewarded with a nod of thanks from Draco.

Dinner over, they moved back to the sitting room, and as if they had been assigned the seats they were previously in, Harry and Ron moved to their arm chairs and Draco took his spot on the couch. Hermione settled on the arm of the chair again and Ron wrapped his arm around her. They all sat staring at the fire until Ron broke the silence by asking, "You don't think there's anything here that would lead us to Snape?"

"Snape's with the Dark Lord. Even if you find them, not sure what you plan to do about it. You're outmatched even if _I_ were to help you. But I do know this... " Draco looked around at the trio as if he were going to say something terribly important, but his visage clouded over with doubt and he continued with less fervor. "Snape's promised to drop by from time to time to check on me. I'm not sure what good it would do you to see him, but if you need to talk to him, this would be the place to stay. But just talking. No halfwit attempts at revenge." After looking sharply at Harry, he rolled onto his back on the threadbare couch and let his hair spill over the side of it. It reflected golden in the fire and candlelight.

Harry watched him, deep in thought about what he might say or do when Snape stopped by. He was moderately insulted by being called a halfwit, but this was Draco, after all. If he felt motivated for revenge when he saw Snape, Draco wasn't going to stop him. But those were thoughts for another time. Right now he wondered what it was Draco might've said had he been more comfortable. He put it out of his mind for now. "At the very least, we'll stay here tonight and search this place by the light of day. We can make a plan then. What does Pettigrew do around here?"

Draco sighed. "Not much. Sometimes he comes up with petty things he wants me to do. Eats loads of cheese. Talks about Weasley naked."

"WHAT?" shrieked Ron.

Draco snickered.

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

Even Hermione grinned a little at that one. "I think what Harry was getting at is how important it is for him to be visible or around. Or if we can leave him like that."

Draco appeared to have ignored her, but answered, "Well, I could use the Imperious curse on him. Keep him in here in case there's a fire call. They do check in from time to time to see if we're still here and to leave us food. You lot would have to stay away from here and I'd... well... I might have to wear that little costume so things don't appear out of sorts. At least when I'm around this room."

Harry wasn't sure if that was an altogether bad thing. That thought jolted him. He couldn't think of a rational reason why Draco in a maid's uniform was a particularly good thing. Well other than that spot where the stockings met the belt, the way that it stretched over Draco's thin thighs, and... Raising his brows, Harry tried to control his blush and just nodded. "That sounds like a plan." His voice cracked since it came out about an octave higher than usual. Everyone stared at him.

Hermione cut eyes from Harry back to Draco. "It's been a long day. Maybe we should get some rest. Where are the bedrooms?"

"Ah, well, there's only two, Pettigrew's is the master. You lot can share it. I'll just stay in mine and Pettigrew looks comfortable where he is. I'd rather cast the Imperious in the morning, deal with it when I'm fresh," drawled Draco. He rolled off of the couch and smoothed his robes out as if it mattered. He avoided looking at Harry as he led them out of the book-lined room down a short hall where there were two bedrooms, a master and a smaller one that appeared to have been Snape's growing up. It was likewise lined with books and dusty phials with a few sizes of cauldrons lined up in front of a lone, narrow window.

Draco turned in surprise that everyone had followed him to this room. He pointed back to the other room. "That's the master. The bed is bigger as is the room." The trio continued to stare at him if for no other reason than to keep form looking at each other at the awkward arrangement of all sleeping in the same bed. "What?"

"Well, it's just that... maybe we should let Hermione have the room to herself?" Harry tried.

Giving them all a withering look, Draco shook his head. "Haven't you lot been playing 'camp out' for a while now? I'd think you'd have had this arranged on your end. Besides, doesn't Weasley _want_ to sleep next to his _girlfriend_?"

Ron and Hermione blushed brightly and exchanged glances. They both eyed at Harry and then gave Draco and imploring look.

Draco shot back a pained expression that left Harry looking mystified. "What?" asked Harry.

Rubbing his face with his hand, Draco looked up, appearing like he was going to tell them all off and then swept into Snape's old room and slammed the door.

The trio sighed, each for their own reason. Then they all turned around to trudge to the master bedroom.

--

The master bedroom did have a vast bed, which Hermione transfigured to be even larger, stretching the span of the cramped room. The two wardrobes were dusty and creaked in protest when opened. Doxies fluttered out of the first one and Hermione slammed it shut, coughing from the dust they'd stirred up. The room also featured its own bathroom, which Harry decided to take advantage of first since Ron and Hermione didn't seem to mind.

It felt nice to wash away the grime. In spite of what Draco thought, Harry had spent the first month of his summer vacation at the Dursley's to complete the blood bind that protected him. Then he spent the next month at the Burrow helping to prepare for Bill and Fleur's wedding. It was a last, perfect day for all of them, and it had ended all too soon. The next morning, Harry had packed his things intending to leave alone, but Ron and Hermione were right there with him. They'd spent a few days searching Grimmauld Place for the missing locket with no luck. After happening upon correspondence between Snape and Regulus in one of the old closets, they found that Snape lived on Spinner's End and had gotten lucky with finding Draco outside.

As he washed his hair, using his wand to conjure soap, he pondered how awkward the summer had been with Ginny. They were broken up, but he'd intended to come back to her after all of this was over. But her behavior rankled him. While he understood that she was probably just playing the game that had worked for her before, when she'd started owling Seamus and being very vocal about his attentions, it left Harry feeling sour. It wasn't a game; he was seriously worried for Ginny's life. Not to mention that he had no guarantee that _he_ would survive this. He wasn't playing cat and mouse. It struck him as immature that she'd believe he was.

Finished with his shower, Harry toweled off, pulled on his pyjama pants and a t-shirt and opened the door. He'd distantly heard the sound of squeaking springs when he opened the door. He was too deep in thought to really register what it meant. There was a squeal, Ron's white, freckled arse exposed by the candlelight of the bathroom for a tick and then the sound of covers and quick movement. "Harry!" Hermione gasped.

"Oh. I umm... err... there's a book I wanted..." he stuttered out as he fled the room. Starting towards the sitting room, he remembered the possibility of a fire call. Dismissing the idea that if someone did pop in, Pettigrew stupefied on the floor would provide a problem, he trudged to Draco's room. He knocked and heard a very loud, put out sigh.

"Come in."

Harry let himself in and found Draco in a huge bed squeezed to one side. His hair was wet, obviously having the same idea about cleaning before bed as Harry had. Draco had the sheets pulled up over his chest, but his shoulders were bare. Harry wondered if he were naked under there. "I um..."

Draco sighed again and rolled his eyes. "I heard the bedsprings. Just keep to your side of the bed. Good night." With that, Draco rolled on his side with his back to Harry and the lights went out.

Left to navigate the pitch-black and unfamiliar room, Harry stood there for a moment to let his eyes adjust. It didn't help much, so mostly he had to feel his way, stubbing his toe a couple of times before he felt the mattress against his knee. He fancied he could hear Draco snickering. "I don't hear the springs anymore, maybe I should just go..."

"I silenced the room. It was making me nauseated."

Harry nodded, not that Draco could see that. He pulled his glasses off and stuck them on the nightstand, his wand next to them. "Well, thanks for this... and for... silencing the room."

"You were gone a while. I thought maybe you'd joined them."

Was that a note of jealousy? Harry frowned at himself. What would he care? "I had a shower." He slipped under the covers and rolled onto his back. The mattress was old and lumpy, but it was better than the floor.

Draco groaned. "They're dirty and doing that? Foul."

"I guess they haven't had much time alone lately."

"Cockblocking, Potter?"

"Not on purpose. I guess I didn't know they'd... gotten that far."

"I wish I didn't know." Draco rolled onto his back and sighed again. "Know what day it is?"

Harry tried to do the mental math to add up to the day. He vaguely remembered celebrating his birthday before he left and Molly chastising him for not having a proper party. But he was ready to get on with his destiny. In theory, he'd have more birthdays. If not, well, at least it would be over. "I've no clue."

"September first. We'd be spending our first night in the dorms. Those comfortable beds, the perfect sheets..." Draco sounded dreamy.

"Oh. It seems like just yesterday was my birthday." Yesterday or a year ago it could've been his birthday. Time seemed to be slippery lately.

"Yesterday? Happy birthday. I didn't have time to shop. You're terribly hard to buy for, I hope you'll accept Pettigrew in the spirit in which he was intended."

Harry grinned. "That's very thoughtful of you, Draco. You really didn't have to. Especially since it just _seems like_ yesterday was my birthday. It was a month ago, really."

"Even still, I insist. Take Pettigrew. He's all yours." Draco smirked back and pulled his arm up over his face.

This was utterly ridiculous, but Harry was amused. "Are you so sure he's yours to give?"

"I guess he will be tomorrow," answered Draco grimly.

"Why didn't you use the Imperious on him sooner?" Harry rolled onto his side, he could only see the outline of Draco, but he was glad to have a reference of where he was. At least he could stop imagining him coming at him with his wand now.

"I don't know if he can shake it off or not. I figure with the three of you there, if it doesn't work, I'll have some back up. Plus, if the Dark Lord does catch us, then I'll just claim you put me under Imperious and I'll be covered."

"Clever, but he's a Legilimens."

Draco turned on his side to face Harry. "I'm an Occlumens."

"Oh. Well. Then I guess you have it all covered." Harry wasn't sure exactly how he felt about being a cog in the wheel of Draco's machinations. He further wondered how it was that Draco came up with such an intricate plan in the time it took him to shower. Or maybe he formulated it during dinner. Slytherins were obviously more adept at plotting. Harry decided he would've just run away from here and taken off with his mother. But then, Draco never had Harry's luck when it came to Voldemort, so perhaps he made the right choice.

There was a drawn out pause before Draco spoke again. "Don't you miss school?"

Harry blew a stray piece of hair from his face. "I try not to think about it."

"We would've had the feast instead of a desiccated roast."

"You're taking the wrong approach to not thinking about it."

"I had my _birthday_ here," Draco groused. "Snape came for a little while and brought my mum. Then they left me with Pettigrew again."

There was something disturbingly hollow in Draco's voice and it clutched at Harry's heart and rattled him a little. "Does Pettigrew..."

Draco shot Harry a warning look.

Harry decided to try it from a different angle. "Does he make you wear that maid's uniform?"

"Oh no, Potter, I just enjoy feeling pretty. I'd've worn it to bed if I'd known I was having company." He rolled his eyes at Harry's gaping surprise. "Yes, of course he makes me wear it."

"Why... is he... does he... like boys?" Harry tried.

"I'd have to say that if he liked boys he might prefer me to dress as one. But I don't think it's about either of those things, to be honest. Snape evidently treated him like a servant when he was stuck here last summer and now that he has someone beneath him that Snape is fond of; he's taking it all out on me."

"Oh... so... it's not about ..."

Draco cut him off. "I just wish I could go back to school. It was lame and I hated everyone, but it was still better than this dump."

"Right. But Malfoy, did _someone_ hurt you? Was it Snape?"

"Goodnight, Potter."

Harry heard Draco turning over again. Deciding that he wasn't quite done with the conversation, he reached out and found Draco's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He was shocked to hear a sniffle. "Draco..."

"It's allergies, Potter. Don't get too excited. And call me Malfoy."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry insisted as he grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around. Maybe it was overkill to hold him, but he had the idea that Draco was crying, and it bothered him. Or maybe he just wanted to be held. He decided it didn't matter because already he had protectively wrapped his arms around Draco who pressed his face against Harry's neck, but remained otherwise motionless. Harry felt the resurgence of urge to kill both Snape and Pettigrew. "Did they touch you?"

"No... no, it's not anything like that. No one's touching me but _you_. I just... I just want to go home." Draco sniffed again, but he didn't sob.

Harry slid his hands up and down his back, surprised at how easy this was to do, how comfortable he was doing it. But he also felt burdened. He needed to end this war; it was the only way that everyone could go home. He kissed the top of Draco's head and opened his mouth to say something when he felt warm, soft lips against his own. Automatically, he parted his lips and leaned in to stroke at Draco's tongue to coax it out. It didn't occur to him how odd this was until Draco was pushing back from him like a cat that had gotten too much affection and had enough. Harry let go of him.

Draco wiggled back to his side of the bed and said nothing.

Lying there in the bed, Harry's mind whirled. What had just happened? Of course, he realized what had physically happened. He'd cuddled Draco and for whatever reason Draco had kissed him. Not that he'd had any inkling before tonight that Draco might... kiss a boy. The word gay was too extreme for Harry to even _think_ about right now. He pulled the covers up only to feel them snatched away as Draco rolled over.

Grabbing them back, Harry gave a sharp tug that spun Draco back round and next to him. The look of defiance on Draco's face was almost frightening. Harry let go of the blankets and Draco took them and rolled back over. Edging a little closer, Harry took as much of the blanket as he could. He realized he could easily overpower Draco and take it, but at the moment he was a little too freaked out by what had happened. Draco Malfoy had kissed him, which was weird enough on its own, but it was slowly dawning on him that he'd kissed back. Not only had he kissed him back, but he'd been disappointed when it ended as well.

That idea made his stomach tighten and his head feel light. Maybe he'd been without a girlfriend for too long. Only, he was pretty sure that a lack of girls only made you gay on boats or in prison. Or maybe he was just surprised? Although that kiss had gone on a bit long and with too much participation for him to completely write it off. Maybe Draco had some answers. He rolled onto his side. "Draco?"

The forced snore was his only response. Harry reached out and jostled Draco's blanket-covered shoulder. "Draco."

Draco swatted his hand away. "Leave me alone," he whined.

"I just... I wanted to know why... "

"I don't know why."

Harry leaned forward. "You don't know why you kissed me?"

Draco pulled the blankets over his head. "Leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry. It's just... that you..."

"Go back in the other room."

Looking at the door and then the wall that he could see the outlined shapes of bottles and books on, Harry feared what Ron and Hermione might be doing that he couldn't even hear. "No."

The covers lurched and the bed wiggled in protest until Draco yanked them off of his head, his white hair left in a static coronus around his head. "What did you say?"

Harry glared back at Draco. Static hair boy didn't intimidate him. "I said no. No, I'm not leaving this bed."

"Maybe I'll leave." Draco tilted his head up pompously.

"Good."

Draco sat up and tried what must've been in his mind, his most intimidating sneer. "This is my bed!"

It was almost cute. "You said I could stay."

"I changed my mind!"

Harry shrugged. "You know, considering that I'm helping you with your little situation here, I think that you at least owe me your bed."

"I didn't have a choice!" Draco sounded desperate; his eyes darted around the room as if looking for some idea to gain control of this conversation back.

"Which would make you my prisoner, then. So technically, this is _my_ bed and I'm just letting _you_ sleep in it." Harry beamed at Draco's silence. "Good then, now that that's settled," he continued as he pulled at the blankets to cover himself.

Draco crumpled against the bed and punched his pillow a couple of times to form it to a preferred position. Or out of frustration. He turned his back on Harry again and remained still.

Though Harry felt victorious, it took him a few minutes to realize that Draco still hadn't answered his question. But by this time he was terribly tired himself and decided to let it pass till the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry awoke late and wasn't surprised to find that Draco wasn't there. The room was humid and lightly scented with a citrus musk. It evidently hadn't been long since Draco had gotten up and showered. Harry decided to follow in his footsteps and took a quick shower. He dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and headed to see what the others were up to.

He was surprised to find Hermione and Draco alone in the kitchen. Draco sat on the counter in a chocolate brown robe listening to Hermione said while she prodded at the fry up. For her part, Hermione seemed rather chirpy that someone was listening to what looked like another of her tiresome lectures. Harry was surprised with Draco's patience until he saw a gleeful look pass over the aristocratic face. He sat back looking smug, waiting for her to pause. "Actually..." was all Harry heard, but he said something that caused Hermione to deflate; appeared more frustrated than insulted.

"They've been at it like that for 20 minutes," Ron assured Draco. "I think they both have _Hogwarts, A History_ memorized. Nerds."

Harry grinned at Ron's shaking head. "At least she's not boring _us_ with it."

Peering back into the kitchen, Ron huffed. "I think he's flirting or something. If he thinks I'm going to let him try and steal my girlfriend..."

"I don't think that's what he's doing," Harry interjected a bit too fast. Ron gave him a quizzical look. "Err... just that, you know, the blood purity thing." He looked at Draco's haughty face; he was taking great joy in Hermione's stammering. Then she said something back and Draco paled. It was her turn to be self-righteous. Draco sneered and hopped off of the counter.

Leaving the kitchen, Draco addressed them as he brushed past. "Gentlemen."

"No tutu?" Ron teased.

Draco flashed an impish grin. "Liked that, did you?" Ron rolled his eyes. Harry blushed. Clearing his throat at Harry's reaction, Draco headed for the sitting room and forced open one of the large, dusty windows that faced the front.

Harry continued to watch Draco as Ron headed to the kitchen and started to crowd plates onto the undersized kitchen table. When Harry looked back, Draco was petting and feeding his eagle owl that had just arrived. On his lap was a velvet pouch and a basket that Harry recognized as the one Draco's mother used to send him treats. Draco glanced over the note, his scowl growing ever more irritated as he read. He pulled a scroll from his pocket and was affixing it to the owl's leg when Harry rushed up. "What is that?"

Draco paused to glare at Harry. "It is what is known in the Wizarding world as a letter. Those of us who are literate often use them to communicate with friends and loved ones who aren't close enough to chat with. Perhaps if you're here a while, I'll teach you more about the art of correspondence."

Taking the scroll from Draco, Harry cracked the seal, ignoring the snark. "What does it say?" he asked, giving Draco a chance to explain anything he might read before he read it.

"Oh, I suppose I'll be teaching you to read as well? Very well then, it's a letter to my mother, it says nothing about you. If I don't send her a letter back then she'll know that something's going on. I wrote it this morning so I wouldn't be in a rush and muck things up. Now, is this moment of invading my privacy over or will you be reading it aloud to your friends?" Draco leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, looking quite surly.

Harry skimmed the letter and it appeared to be nothing but Draco's whinging about wanting to go home. Draco also appeared to be concerned that Peter was going to want more exotic food and he asked for more money and treats to supplement his budget. "More money?"

"Yes, I was going to bribe Granger to let me out. I've been caught," Draco responded, holding his hands up in a faux plea for mercy. "Or... I could be trying to accommodate the fact that there's going to be three more people here and we need additional money for food. Of course, even if you don't stay long, a few extra galleons might help, so either way..." Draco swung his hand out and shrugged. "So there you go. My top-secret note that I worked hard to keep hidden has been confiscated. The dirty truths revealed. Oh whatever shall I --"

"You've made your point." Harry pulled his wand and tapped it to the cracked seal and handed the scroll back to Malfoy.

"Breakfast," Hermione called. She and Ron looked shamefaced at the slightly burned breakfast. Their lips were bright red again and their clothing a bit mussed.

Draco grunted. The flap of wings indicated the owl's leaving and everyone headed to the table for the singed breakfast.

--

After the meal, Hermione set about casting charms to clear away and clean the dishes while spouting off how this was not women's work and hinting that she wasn't the only one who knew cleaning charms. No one really paid much attention, especially not Draco, who was already up and heading towards the sitting room. "Are you listening to me?" she nagged.

"No," Harry admitted. Ron began to snicker but it cut off abruptly. The loss of laughter caught Harry's attention and he looked at them. Hermione's expression was angry and Ron appeared cowed.

"I'll check on how those dishes are going, then." With a hasty retreat, Ron was off towards the kitchen, Hermione trailing behind him.

"I'll be there in a minute," Harry called after them as he headed to the sitting room.

"No hurry!" Hermione called back. An involuntary shudder passed through Harry's body and he quickened his steps towards the sitting room. Even though Draco was in there, and he was still confused about the weird kiss, it was better than standing around awkwardly watching your best friends grope one another.

Upon entering the room, Harry observed that the morning sun lit the gilded spines of the innumerable books lined up on the shelves, some crammed in sideways along the top. Pettigrew still sat stiffly on the floor in front of the dead fire, Draco stood beside his body, his wand drawn and eyes closed in concentration. He looked up when Harry entered. "Come to see some magic?"

"I thought you said you didn't do this before because you had no one to back you up," Harry pointed out, observing Draco was alone. "Weren't you afraid he'd wake up and kill you?" Harry pulled his wand and held it at the ready.

Taking in Harry's stance, Draco nodded. "It was a concern, but then I had to ask myself, 'death or nagging?'"

Grinning, Harry responded, "I stand behind your choice."

Draco's brow perked at the comment and he appeared ready to say something, but then closed his mouth and shook it off. "I'm sure you'd enjoy that," he murmured. Before Harry was able to ask what _that_ meant, Draco's wand swished with a theatrical flourish and he intoned, "_Ennervate_," followed with, "_Imperio_." The movements were crisp and graceful. Harry wondered if perhaps Draco wasn't performing them with gratuitous drama. Or perhaps he had just never taken much notice of how Draco moved when casting spells since they were often directed at him.

Pettigrew appeared livid for a split second before his face shaded neutral and slack. He smiled at Harry. "James's son, it's so nice to see you!"

"Stop that." His father's name on Pettigrew's lips angered Harry. "I don't want him to talk to me. At all. Ever."

"I promise I'll turn myself in after this is all over. I'll confess everything I did." Pettigrew said, his voice betraying nervousness.

"_Malfoy_." Harry glared at Draco who turned away and pocketed his wand. Pettigrew sat on the divan.

Grabbing a book from the shelf, Draco handed it to him to read. "Do you want me to look for... your clues in here or do you want to do that yourself?"

Still feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins from the few words from Pettigrew, Harry wasn't ready for the change of tone from Draco. "We'll do it ourselves. You don't know what we're looking for," Harry spat.

"You could tell me." Draco leaned against one of the bookshelves, observing Harry.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Shouldn't you be in your _uniform_ when you're in here?" Harry jammed his wand into his pocket and met Draco's eyes. The defeated look in Draco's eyes made Harry regret snapping. As he thought about what Draco had Pettigrew say, it occurred to him that it wasn't that inflammatory. The second remark Draco forced Pettigrew to say sounded repentant. His tone softened, "It's not... it would just be hard to explain what we're looking for."

"I wasn't planning on wearing the... _thing_... all day. I was going to transfigure this when a fire call started." He slid his hand over the sleeve of his robe, fingering the fine fabric.

"You'll have to be wicked fast, you know. Otherwise..."

Draco dropped his hand from the gold embroidery. "I wasn't always in the room when the calls started, so I just thought I'd..." He glanced at Harry and then realization dawned on his face. "You don't want me to help you. You want me to stay in here."

"It's just that..."

"You don't trust me. I get it." The expression on his face showed that he clearly didn't get it, or at least didn't like it. Who would like sitting around in a tutu?

Harry leaned against the armchair. "Maybe you can just stay in your room?"

"_Your_ room?" Draco asked with a churlish tone. "There aren't that many rooms to examine, aren't you going to want to try that one first? It was Snape's room, after all."

"Fair enough, then you can stay in the kitchen while we start there."

"And here I thought you liked me in my little dress, Potty."

Harry cleared his throat. "Don't be weird."

"I'm not the one who goes red each time it's mentioned. You were the one staring at my legs." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and grinned in defiance.

"You were the one who kissed me." Harry shot back.

Draco paled and swallowed. "You didn't stop it."

"Why did you--"

"Why did you hug me?"

Harry shook his head and appealed to the ceiling for answers. "I don't know. I really... don't know. I thought you were upset. I thought you wanted me to."

Draco threw his hands up and held them out at Harry in a gesture to make him see what he meant.

"Just... don't do it again," Harry mumbled after a few quiet moments.

Strutting past him to go to the kitchen, Draco grumbled, "Trust me, I won't."

--

"So what happened when you stayed the night with him?" Ron asked, dumping over a phial of what appeared to be desiccated milky white eyes of some blind, rare fish. The glass broke and a few of the eyes detangled from the clot of veins and roots to roll on the floor and stare up at him.

Harry made a face at Ron who pulled his wand to repair it. "Nothing happened."

"Then explain to me why we should trust him. For all we know, Voldemort was banking on us showing up here and you feeling sorry for Malfoy." Hermione systematically pulled books from the shelf, flipped through them and set them back in place.

"I was just saying that the search might go faster with an extra pair eyes." Harry shrugged and continued to try to force enchantments out of the wardrobe. It appeared that beyond a secret compartment that held boyish treasures of a small tin car, some old Muggle change and gobstones, it was ordinary. He was careful to admit that he did feel sorry for Draco, but that had little to do with Voldemort or Draco for that matter.

Hermione cast a charm so she could float higher to examine the books that were in neat rows to the ceiling. "I don't know, Harry. The thing that's been bothering me since yesterday is that he seemed awfully _calm_ about seeing us here. It was almost as if he expected to be found."

Nodding, Ron continued shaking the phials, looking for lockets or anything that looked out of place. He followed up a visual search with a muttered incantation to force the ingredients to reveal whatever magic it had. "And he hasn't otherwise been... well, he's been a prat, but I thought he'd be _attacking_ us."

Harry shut the doors on the wardrobe and started to examine a desk. "But you saw how he was dressed, you see what's going on here. I told you about him being in the Astronomy Tower that night. He couldn't kill Dumbledore and Dumbledore clearly wanted me to see that. And as I said before, Malfoy was going to give up. I think his behavior is consistent with that. I don't think he wants to do this. I don't think he's a killer."

"So long as he's not the one holding the axe personally, Harry. He would've let Katie die." Ron flopped on the floor, wrapping his arms over his head. "I need a break."

Harry agreed and sat on the floor as well. It did bother him that Draco was reckless with that necklace, but he rationalized that he could've killed Draco in the bathroom. The necklace was wrapped up; Katie touching it was an accident. The plan was ill formed. As Dumbledore pointed out, it didn't seem like Draco was trying. "I just don't think he's having us on. I think he wants to help. But I guess it won't hurt anything to give it a couple of days before letting him in on it."

Joining the two on the floor, Hermione laid back, stacking her bushy hair as a cushion for her head. "I want to believe in him, too. He's well-read, plus he knows how dark minds work, he really would be a big help."

Secretly, Harry believed Hermione just wanted Malfoy along because he listened to her nattering, but she brought up other good points. "Yes, a Slytherin perspective really would help aid the search. Maybe that's what Dumbledore intended?"

Ron snorted. "Bullocks. He trusted Snape and see what trusting Slytherins got him."

"I never trusted Snape," Harry interjected.

"Right, but... you see what I mean?" Ron sat up enough to catch Harry's eye.

Harry got the point; he just didn't like it. "We'll give it a couple of days."

--

Thus far, dinner was silent. The trio had yet to come up with a definitive answer to their dilemma on whether to tell Draco what they were looking for or not, so they couldn't discuss what all they'd looked through or why. There were good points for and against inviting Draco to search with them. The conversation seemed to keep drifting back to the question, as the wait and see attitude wasn't really a resolution. After an hour or so of debate, no clear verdict was ever reached. Now that they were poking at a roasted chicken, no one had much to say either out of frustration, tiredness, and hunger.

"This is good, Malfoy," Harry tried. Draco speared a potato.

"You like roasting things." Ron pointed out.

Draco shrugged, but felt pressured to say something since everyone was watching at him. "It's easy to do. Throw some spices on, shove it in the oven. Read a bit and then it's done."

"How do you get more food?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

Sighing, Draco looked at the ceiling and then down at his food again. "I give the Muggle kids down the street a few quid to go into town for it. Mum sends money. They come over every few days. I told them I have a sick uncle."

She nodded. Ron leaned forward and leered, "Do you answer the door in the dress?"

"No."

"How do you dress when you answer the door?" Harry asked. He'd finished the chicken and the plate was a wasteland of discarded bones.

Draco eyed the plate and then sneered at Harry. "You're awfully concerned about what I wear, Potter."

Harry blushed and looked down at his plate. He covered it with the napkin like murder victim. "I err... was just trying to... make conversation."

Those grey eyes bore into Harry's blushing face; he looked as if he were about to say something devastatingly appalling when they heard the sound of the hearth flaring and Snape's baritone, "Draco!"

Huffing, Draco threw his napkin on the table and pulled his wand. Heading towards the sitting room; his clothing transfigured into the bustling black crinoline maid's uniform. From behind, Harry could see that the fishnet stockings had long, black lines down the back that ended in a Cuban heel. Not that he knew what that was; just that he found it sexy. He was particularly fascinated by the way that Draco's pale skin shone through the black webbing and the way the skirt swayed as Draco strutted away. Once in the room, Draco slammed the door shut.

The trio looked at one another and then at once everyone was on their feet and crowded against the door. "Extendable ears?" asked Harry hopefully.

"Never without, mate." Ron passed them around as Harry sank to his knees to peek through the keyhole.

"You know, this could be private..." said Hermione, looking doubtful as she pressed the listening end to her ear.

"All the more reason to listen in." Ron settled on his knees next to Harry, squinting to peer through the keyhole.

Harry stayed quiet, he was pretty sure this wasn't the _nice_ thing to do, but Draco wasn't stupid. He'd have to know they were spying on him. Why wouldn't they? He'd read Draco's letter to his mom. Through the hole, he saw Peter sitting in an armchair by the fire, but Draco was right in front of it on his knees. His ankles were crossed under his bum and his back was straight as he listened to Snape droning on about his responsibilities.

Snape kept glaring at Pettigrew, remarking about how fellow wizards should treat one another. Harry couldn't tell what the expression on Pettigrew's face was, but he remarked that Snape should have thought about that before turning him into his personal servant. It sounded like a rote discussion that Draco must've heard a thousand times. Snape went on to talk about how crucial a time it was and that everyone needed to stay where they were. Finally he asked Pettigrew to leave while he spoke alone with the boy.

The trio scooted back from the door just before it swung open. Pettigrew strode in, closed the door again and took a seat at the kitchen table. Harry looked at him for a moment. The man appeared natural, if not a bit taciturn. He had to admire the skill that Draco had over controlling other people like that. Reminding himself that it was an evil and horrible thing to do, he crawled back in front of the door and resettled himself to look through the keyhole.

What he saw made his jaw drop and his blood boil. Draco was on his hands and knees, arse up exposing the white lace of his frilly pettipants, and the black garters stretched over his pale flesh, denting it, which was distracting enough. But what shocked Harry was Draco leaning into the fire and Snape's long, sallow green-tinted hand reaching from the fire to slide through the pale, shiny tresses. Draco leaned into the touches like an attention-starved kitten. Harry felt his jaw stiffen and he reached for the doorknob. Having dropped his extendable ear at this outrage, he didn't hear what was being said.

"That conversation is _over_. What is going on in there?" hissed Harry. Hermione knocked Harry's hand away from the knob as Ron tried to yank Harry back. He looked at Harry with an irritated shock that was tinged with worry.

Ron nodded to Hermione to keep listening if he had to remove Harry from the doorway. Harry pressed his eye to the keyhole again and Draco was back on his knees and glaring at the door. He turned back to the fire trying to look casual as Snape likewise looked towards the door. Draco shook his head and Harry grabbed the end of the dropped ear to listen in again. Ron was still staring at Harry, clocking his movements in case there was another outburst. He looked ready to pull Harry away at the first sign of strangeness.

"...probably those kids I pay to get food. They've started to become obnoxious about doing it, as if we're going to need more supplies just because they show up. Muggles."

"You may need to modify their memories," drawled Snape.

Draco sighed. "I did it once, I'm not sure how often doing that is a good idea. It's not exactly my forte. I don't want to dull their minds any more than being born to Muggles already does."

Snape perked a brow and smirked at Draco. It was rare to see Snape doing anything other than scowling. Harry found it disturbing. "That's considerate of you. Any word from the trio?"

"Alas, they seem to be biding their time." Harry had to hand it to Draco; he could act. He didn't even look towards the door or sound particularly disturbed.

"I left plenty of clues to get them here. I expected better of Granger. Brightest witch of her age, indeed."

The trio looked at one another. That explained why Draco seemed to be expecting them. Did Draco know they were listening to him now? He had to know they would. Maybe he had little choice. "Perhaps they're... _busy_." Harry couldn't see Draco's expression, but given Snape's response, it had to be wicked.

"Don't be crude, Draco." Snape paused, peering around the room again, looking a bit paranoid. "And Pettigrew hasn't found the present I left for them?"

At this, Draco's facade faltered and he looked down. "Err. No."

"When they show, be sure they get it. I cannot stress this to you enough." Snape eyed Draco who nodded to him. "Yes, sir." Snape reached out from the fire again and he cupped the side of Draco's face to force him to look up at him. "You _will_ see to it that they get it."

Harry restrained his urge to rush in again. The touch was familiar, and so intimate that it made his skin crawl. When Snape's long, knotted thumb brushed over the pink flushed cheek, Harry tore his eyes away feeling quite unsettled. Ron was staring at him a wary, perplexed look.

"Of course, sir."

Harry closed his eyes. Whatever it was that Draco was supposed to give them, he hadn't. He didn't sound pleased to have to do it. In Harry's mind, it said everything. Draco didn't give whatever it was to them because he didn't want to; because he wasn't against the trio. He would've looked victorious, except that the vision of Snape touching Draco was causing an agonizing twisting in his chest. He handed the extendable ear back to Ron.

Hermione and Ron traded looks and then Hermione got up to move to Harry's side. Ron stared doggedly through the keyhole. "Harry... I don't understand what's wrong. Are you angry he kept something from us?"

"No... No. Maybe?" He rubbed at his chest as if that would quell the feeling. Then he raked his hand through his hair and exhaled. "I guess I just wonder why he didn't give it to us. Maybe it's bad?"

She nodded. "Well, it's coming from Snape. We'll let Malfoy explain. I just wonder why you're so..." her voice broke off as Ron hopped away from the door, pocketing the ears. They all took their seats back at the table, doing a poor job of looking as if they'd never left.

Draco threw open the door, looking irritated in spite of being back in his brown robes. He glanced at Pettigrew and the man stood and headed back into the drawing room. "I should probably let him eat, but I think the porker could use a little diet."

"What did Snape want us to have, Malfoy?" Ron barked.

Draco exhaled in a vain attempt to cover his nervousness. Perhaps he wasn't as good an actor close up. Harry wondered how much acting Draco did with Snape and just how far his _acting skills_ went. "It's... well, it's from Snape. I don't know what it does. I've been trying to read up on it, but I can't find anything out about it other than what it obviously is."

"So you were trying to protect us?" asked Hermione. Harry registered her glance at him before she spoke, but he was too busy glowering at Draco wondering exactly what he got up to with Snape.

Draco looked like he was trying to come up with another way to couch that. "Something like that, I suppose. Enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

"Is Snape your _enemy_?" growled Harry, who stood up and crossed to Draco.

Eyes glittering with spiteful derision, Draco replied, "Not really. Did he _look_ like my enemy?"

"No, you looked quite cozy. Very _comfortable_ with one another." Harry scowled at him. He didn't even know why he was angry with that, but he did know that Draco's mocking and amused tone irked him.

"_Oh, we are_." Draco crossed his arms and pulled back from Harry's encroachment on his personal space.

"Good for you. What did he want me to have?" Harry held his hand out as if Draco could just produce it.

"This is stupid even for you, Potter. You have no idea what it could be or what it could do. This is something that _Snape_ wants you to have. You remember Snape, don't you? The man who killed your mentor? The Death Eater?"

"I know who he is. He wants me to have something. I'd like to see what it is, Malfoy." Harry crowded Draco again, backing him against the doorframe.

"Harry... as much as I hate to agree with Malfoy..."

"Shut up, Ron," Harry growled, not taking his eyes from Draco's. "Give it to me."

Narrowing his eyes at Harry, Draco's resolve crumbled. "Fine. If you want it, I can't be held responsible for what happens to you." Harry noticed that Draco's hands were shaking and he felt a little guilty for putting him into this position. He was about to take it all back when Draco grabbed his skirt and pulled up the hem. The petticoat crinkled in a low whisper as Draco revealed the long, silver necklace that ended with a locket with the Slytherin "s" on it that had been magically affixed to the garment. Draco used his wand to unbind the enchantment from the chain and shakily handed it to Harry. "I... I don't know what it is... I couldn't open it."

Harry was stunned into silence as he watched the necklace dropping into his hand. A horcrux. Snape wanted him to have a horcrux. Confusion shook him as he gazed at the glittering treasure. Was Snape to be trusted then? Had Dumbledore been right about him? He looked up into Draco's eyes. Draco was still staring at the locket in horror as if he might snatch it back out of fear of what it might do to Harry. "It's... all right, Malfoy. It's... what we were looking for."

Draco blinked at him, his brows furrowed as he shook his head. Ron and Hermione ran up to flank Harry as they stared at the first horcrux found on their journey. "Are you sure it's real?" Ron asked.

Nodding, Harry whispered, "It's real. I can... feel it. It's the one I saw in the Pensieve."

"How do we destroy it?" Hermione asked, reaching out to prod it.

"I destroyed the book with the basilisk fang..." Harry answered, unsure if that's how you destroyed all horcruxes. Not that he had one on him. "I don't suppose anyone has one of those lying about?"

"Snape's..." Draco looked scattered and was still a few thoughts behind everyone. The revelation of Snape's loyalties tripped him up.

"I don't know what side he's on," Harry snapped. "Does that disappoint you? Your _boyfriend_ might be a good guy? That must really shatter your illusions."

"He's... not..." Draco waved his hand at Harry. "Whatever. My part in this is done, obviously. Maybe he's _your boyfriend_, because he told me nothing about this."

As much as Harry wanted to remember that look of trepidation on Draco's face when he handed over the locket, all that he could envision now was Snape's thumb brushing over Draco's cheek. "Oh, I don't want him. He's all yours, Malfoy."

"What is going on?" Hermione whispered to Harry after Draco had shot down the hall into his room and slammed the door. "You spent all day singing his praises and when he actually proves himself everything you've been claiming all day..." she gestured towards the door where he'd gone.

"He knows Malfoy's disappointed that we didn't explode from touching that thing," Ron assured Hermione.

"He didn't look disappointed," she pointed out. "He looked more worried that it was going to hurt us."

Harry just couldn't explain that it had nothing to do with this great boon they'd just received. He couldn't even explain to himself why Snape touching Draco with such familiarity had keyed him up this much. He savagely hoped that Draco was sobbing, and then hated himself for that thought. "I don't know what to think of all of that. It's just lucky for us that Snape came along. Now we have another piece to destroy and we're that much closer to ending this."

"And now we can leave," said Ron.

"We're not leaving Malfoy here to this!" Hermione gasped. "Besides, if Snape really is helping us, this is the perfect way for him to get information to us."

"Except that Malfoy didn't tell him that we were here." Ron eyed Hermione. "Do you _like him_ or something?"

Hermione looked incredulous. "Who? _Malfoy_?"

"Yes. A couple of conversations and you're his best friend!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. I just don't think he's the root of all evil. I think he needs help, and I think Snape is trying to help us. It makes sense to stay here. Logical sense. If you weren't so blinded by jealousy, you'd see that."

"I'm not jealous!" Harry shouted. The other two looked at Harry in shock. Ron curled an arm around Hermione and pulled her closer. Harry would've laughed that they were afraid of him had the circumstances were less tense. "Never mind. Hermione's right. We should stay."

"Good," Hermione agreed. Her eyes scanned over Harry carefully, but ultimately dropped.

"I'm tired," said Harry, stretching and forcing out a yawn. He could tell she was curious as to what his outbursts meant, but as he couldn't answer that for himself, he didn't want to try and explain it. Best to play the 'tired' card. "I'll sleep in here, I guess." The couch looked horrible but it was either sleeping with Ron and Hermione or with Draco. Neither option was tolerable at the moment.

"You sure?" Hermione asked. Ron jabbed her lightly in the ribs.

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. "I don't want another... episode... like last night. That was..."

"Awkward," Hermione finished.

"Well then, goodnight mate," Ron said as he pulled Hermione with him to the bedroom.

"I'll think on how to destroy the horcrux tonight," she said as Ron pulled her into the room.

"Sure you will," Harry mumbled. He looked over row upon row of books in the sitting room. Several of them looked interesting, but none of the titles jumped out at him as being one that would explain to him how to destroy a piece of a soul. Of course, he had a hard time concentrating on the titles because each time the fire crackled; he looked down at the mantle and pictured Snape touching Draco again. He was just about to give up when he heard someone enter the room. He turned to see Malfoy in his pyjamas holding a plain, silver dagger.

"You should've used your wand," said Harry as he turned to confront Draco.

"Yes, because if I wanted you dead, I _wouldn't_ have slit your throat in the night, I'd have waited till you were wide awake and hanging about in the sitting room pretending to be literate." He held the hilt towards Harry. "It's enchanted to cut through anything. It's the only thing I have that I could think that would destroy your... whore crutch."

Harry perked a brow at the slight mispronunciation. "Horcrux." He explained to Draco what the word meant and why they were looking for them. He was placing a lot of trust in Draco now, but if Draco truly were working for Voldemort, he wouldn't be trying to help him destroy pieces of his soul. He certainly wouldn't be trying to protect them from Snape, no matter how misguided the attempt was.

"I'm glad you told me." Draco paused and looked around the room. "This couch really is... pretty bad. And as you said... that's your room anyway... if you're really still angry with me..." he trailed off falling just short of offering to sleep on the couch himself. Harry grinned. Somehow Draco being Draco was more reassuring than anything else right now. He might've looked for a pod if Draco had been magnanimous. "Just stay to your side of the bed."

Nodding solemnly, Harry nudged Draco's arm. "He was _touching_ you."

"Jealous, Potter?" Draco led the way down the hall and crawled into the far end of the bed.

"You wish, Malfoy." Harry slipped into the bathroom and changed into his pyjamas. By the time he came back out, Draco was doing a fair enough impression of someone sleeping that he chose not to bother him. He still had questions about the kiss, but his mind was filled with destroying the horcrux and curiosity about what Draco's relationship with Snape really was. Rolling over on his side, he stared at the pieces of glinting metal on the nightstand until he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was the first to awaken the next morning. He rolled over to see Draco squeezed all the way to the edge of the bed, turned away from him and curled into a ball. It was almost insulting how extremely he was lying to get away from him even in sleep. Then he saw a small flash of light and as he sat up he saw Draco's hand slipping away from his wand. "What was that? What did you do?"

"Huh? Wha?" Draco did a bad job of acting as if he'd just awoken, although he did appear rather groggy. He couldn't have been awake long.

"Don't 'Huh? Wha?' me, Malfoy. I know you weren't sleep spelling. What did you do?" Grabbing Draco's shoulder, Harry rolled him over onto his back. The ivory sleep shirt had ridden up on his belly exposing a small patch of skin with a platinum trail of hair that led down into the drawstring pyjama pants. Harry was mesmerized by how it glinted in the rays of the morning sun.

Draco sat up and yanked his shirt down. "What wand are you _really_ interested in knowing about, Potter?" He leered at Harry, slapping his hand down on the sheets. The movement seemed a little odd, but Harry was too flustered to comment.

"I'm just waking up! I don't have my glasses on!" The protests just made Draco appear more bemused than he already did. Harry ignored the cocksure grin. "Anyway... what were you doing?" He reached back for his glasses and pushed them onto his face.

"I was grabbing for my wand, waking up with you is creepy. I was scared," Draco said in a mocking tone as he rolled out of bed.

"Snape isn't around to hold you so you went for your wand?" Harry clapped his hand over his mouth in regret, it sounded quite jealous as it came out of his mouth.

"Something like that." Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm heading for the shower first since you seem to have some denial to straighten out."

"Wait! I'm not done with you! You can't go until I say so!"

Pausing in front of the door to the bathroom, Draco crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "And why not?"

"You're still considered hostile. You're a prisoner!" Harry bounded out of bed and headed towards Draco. He wanted to know what was going on with Draco and the wand, or so he told himself. There were loads of other answers he wanted out of him; the wand issue seemed a convenient start.

"A prisoner? After I-- after the-- I'm a _prisoner_? Are you going to chain me to the bed next?" They both stared at each other, both refusing to admit how dirty that sounded. Perhaps even appealing.

Harry cleared his throat. "I don't think it will come to that. I just want to know what you were doing with your wand."

"Y'know, Potter... I think I've earned a bit of trust with you. I gave you that Horcrux, even though I was wrongly protecting you from it. Then I gave you the means to destroy it. I think I've earned the right to handle my wand in bed." Harry pressed his lips together to try not to laugh. "You know what I mean!" Draco's shoulders stiffened and he did his best not to acknowledge how embarrassed he was by that.

"Fine, then. Just tell me this, then. Why were you snuggling up to Snape like an alley cat looking for attention?"

Draco perked a brow. "Alley cats are feral. They don't want attention."

"You know what I mean!" Harry stepped closer as Draco gave him a curious look.

"To distract him from the herd of elephants who thought they were sneaky sidling up to the door for a listen."

"I didn't... I wasn't making noise then," Harry insisted, remembering his little outburst didn't come until after he'd seen Draco's pettipants. He blushed at the memory of that perfect, pert arse covered in fluffy ruffles and looked away.

Opening his mouth for a moment while his eyes cast over Harry's face, Draco looked just about to say something and then changed his mind when Harry looked away. " I made up another story about the kids; to cover the second... noisesome distraction. You lot need to sort out how to move more quietly. At the time I didn't want him to know you all were here, but I suppose he should be informed."

"Are you going to firecall him?"

Draco shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. I can't contact him. It will have to wait until he checks in on us again. Even then..."

Harry took a few steps back and sat down. He'd let Draco shower first. "You don't trust him."

"Of course I trust him. He killed that senile old man for me." Draco's glare dared Harry to remark on that.

"He wasn't senile. Don't ever talk about Dumbledore like that again." Harry kept eye contact with Draco until the other boy nodded. Then he continued. "I doubt Snape was doing it for you." Looking down, Harry realized didn't know that for a fact. However, he couldn't imagine Snape doing something for someone else with nothing to gain. Unless what he hoped to gain... "It's a little weird that he'd... want to touch you like that, isn't it?"

Draco tilted his head and appeared amused. "Well, I don't know how weird it is, really. It's not terribly uncommon in the upper echelons of British or Wizarding society for an older man to take a younger male lover."

"What? You mean... like... gay?" Harry's eyes widened. All he could do was gape at Draco's insinuation.

"Given how you've been... " Draco cleared his throat and looked down at his shuffling feet. "Err... I wouldn't think that concept would be so alien to you."

Finding that statement incomprehensible, Harry turned his back on Draco. Somehow Draco's coyness made the whole thing even less bearable. "Um... right then. Well... err... I think we'll be destroying the locket after breakfast if you umm... want to see." He winced. _Want to see_? It might be interesting, Harry couldn't quite recall what happened the first time very clearly, it was lost to a haze of being poisoned. When he didn't hear a response, he turned around to see Draco gone and the door shut. The water started and Harry was left with an unidentifiable feeling in his stomach about Draco's nudity just beyond that door. Rather than confront or embrace what that feeling was, Harry fled the room for breakfast.

--

Like many boys his age, Harry practiced a morning ritual of showering and wanking. This practice had been stunted by having to live at the Burrow where anyone could walk into the bathroom at any time and often did. While there was little in this world worse than living with the Dursleys, at least they left him alone so he could get in a good toss before he had to cook breakfast. Needless to say, between a month of stunted masturbatory practices and thinking of the way Draco's arse had undulated under those ruffles, he was feeling quite tense at breakfast.

"Figures Malfoy would hog the bathroom. Probably in there primping." Ron nodded sagely and nudged at Harry's arm as he took a bite out of the fried bread. Hermione rolled her eyes at the wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

Harry paled at the thought that perhaps if he did take a longer shower than usual at some point that Ron and Hermione might discuss what was taking _him_ so long in the shower. "Some people just take long showers. There's nothing wrong with that!" Harry protested.

Ron snorted. "You keep thinking that, mate. I don't blame you. Who would want to think of that ferrety git doing something like that anyway?"

Catching Hermione's moony look, Harry felt a spark of irritation that she was likely imagining it. "Doesn't look like Hermione minds thinking about that."

Hermione immediately looked shocked at Harry as Ron glared at her, having caught a mere trace of her blissful expression. "What?"

"Were you thinking about him?" Ron's face brightened to red. His jaw set as her cheeks turned rosy. "Well-- I-- that's..." Hermione sputtered.

Instantly Harry regretted his brashness. Ron had his back up and Hermione was already muttering things about hormones and it only being natural and other, less rational things about how Won-Won didn't have room to criticise. It was looking to be World War III when Harry banged his fist on the table to get their attention. "Look, we have a Horcrux and I thought today would be a good day to destroy it. But if you lot want to continue discussing Malfoy in the shower, I'll do it myself." With that, he pushed himself up from the table, leaving his half eaten breakfast on the table as he headed to his room.

The gold locket glinted innocuously in the morning light next to the elfin blade he was going to use to pry it open and destroy that bit of Voldemort's soul. He would've liked to have had a shower, but the tap was still running. The door wasn't quite shut tightly and the bright, citrus fragrance poured into the room. Deciding to knock on the door to see if Draco wanted to watch him destroy the Horcrux, Harry was stunned when the door noiselessly opened.

Draco's forehead was pressed against his forearm, which lay across the dingy grey tile. The opaque green curtain was back just far enough for Harry to see Draco's fist as it moved in and out of view. His glasses started to fog, but he fancied he caught glimpses of Draco's purpled prick poking through the pale fingers. Draco's gasps only barely sounded over the sound of the water. The side of his face was blotchy and pink, his hair slicked back on his head with only a few dripping tendrils out of order. His mouth opened wider and his gasps were more pronounced. Draco raised his head, the crown was drenched by the streams for them shower as his hand slowed. He blinked a few times and then his head lolled to the side. It took Harry a moment to realize that Malfoy's grey eyes were fixed on him. He thought he caught a faint, open-mouthed grin before the screech of the shower curtain being pulled closed obstructed his view.

--

"It's probably better he doesn't come out here, Harry," Hermione whispered, looking over her shoulder at Ron pacing in front of the house. The sun dappled his red hair as he kept glancing at the door to Snape's house and then back to Harry. "What did he say to you that has you so rattled?"

Whilst Harry realized that Hermione was just trying to be a good friend and that she rightly believed that there was little to nothing Draco could say that would rattle him this badly, he _really_ didn't want to talk about it. "He... he didn't say anything. Look, it's not important. Tell Ron to come back here," he said as he tried arranging the locket on the blackened tree stump as if the display would make it any easier to pry open.

"Do you know how to do it? How did you destroy the journal?" she asked as she waved her arm at Ron to come back when she caught his eye.

"I just... I don't know. I just... stabbed it. I didn't know I was doing anything particularly clever. So I guess that's all I have to do. This is supposed to cut through anything so..." Harry held the hilt in his fist and prepared to stab at it when he heard an odd rhythmic inorganic susurration.

"No one invited _you_," Harry heard Ron say. He whirled around to see Malfoy, his hair still slightly damp from his long shower dressed in his prim maid's uniform. The bright white of the pinafore was almost blinding. Using his hand to shield his eyes from the son as if it would help, he noted that most of Draco's face was cast in shadow thanks to a tree branch. All Harry could see was the trademark sneer.

"I thought Potty was trying to," Draco cleared his throat pointedly, which caused Harry to blush and look away, "extend an invitation earlier."

Harry couldn't even turn around to look again. "Why are you wearing _that_?"

Hearing Malfoy's approach, he tried not to look at the black, pointy-toed shoes with the straps that tied up the ankles. Yes, his thin ankles, lovingly crisscrossed in black mesh that led up to his-- "Well, it's your Horcrux, your big day. I just thought I'd wear your favourite outfit. Was there something else you'd rather I wear, Potter?" Harry thought he could _hear_ the leer in his voice.

"I just thought you might want to watch this, no special attire was required. I don't care what you wear, Malfoy. I don't have a favourite outfit of yours. You could run about naked for all I care." Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were poorly chosen. He dearly wished Ron or Hermione might say something, but they seemed to have also been shocked into silence.

Peripherally, he could see Draco's knees as he moved closer, and then all at once, Draco was on his knees next to him. The frills of the petticoat stuck out from under the black skirt and Draco daintily arranged the white apron, smoothing it out. Though Harry had expected mocking and derision, Draco instead took a demure tone. "Well then, I suppose that you should get on with the destruction. It's what I came out here to see."

"Right." Harry held the locket in his hand and decided to try and pry it open first, rather than stabbing it. It seemed to make sense in a way. Pushing the blade between the gold pieces, it made an irritating scraping sound that made him shiver. He noticed that Ron and Hermione had also sat around the trunk, everyone in a tentative circle, braced to hop up and run should the need arise.

Draco leaned forward at first to peer down at what Harry was doing, but the scraping must've set Draco on edge as well as he'd pulled the leg closest to Harry up, ready to flee. His stiletto heel dug into the dirt. His knee and foreleg were soiled, and for some reason, Harry found himself unable to concentrate on anything other than the fact that Draco's stocking leg was half covered in dirt, from being on his knees. Draco was dirty on his knees in a maid's uniform, with his thin thigh stretched out, and he was unaware that his poufy skirt had ridden up and Harry again found himself gazing at the glinting clasp of metal holding the black thigh elastic. Harry's lips parted as he thought about what it would be like to slide his tongue along the flared skin above the elastic. Would it be soft? Draco's leg appeared to be hairless. He could just... Draco's thigh vanished under the rustling black fabric and Harry was forced to look up into the glinting silver eyes. "Are you going to destroy it, or not?"

All Harry could do was blink slowly and stare at Draco. He was shocked to find that Draco was flushing profusely and seemed to be having a hard time coming up with words, or so that's what he interpreted the soundless mouthing to be about. "I... right. I am." Harry turned back to the tree stump and looked at the golden locket still in his hand. He set it down carefully, "s" side up, as if that might make a difference. Though his instincts tended to be right more than not. Again he wrapped his fingers around the blade, steadying it with his other hand. He plunged the knife in.

Harry had expected the wind to pick up or sudden storm clouds to loom in. What he didn't expect was the small trickle of blood that leaked out between the sandwiched metal. The blade had struck through, a bit low for center, but whatever had happened, it seemed to have worked. Letting go of the blade, he sat back and just stared at it. Everyone remained silent, waiting for something else to happen.

Hermione reached for the blade. Securing the locket down with her fingers, she pulled the blade out with her other hand. The locket sprang open. Inside were a flutter of pictures of people Harry recognised from the Pensieve. Tom Riddle, Sr., Merope, Marvolo and Morfin's faces all fluttered out along with a blurry picture of Tom Riddle himself. They were all faded and pink-tinted as if printed in blood instead of sepia. None of them moved. Harry laid them out for the others, explaining who was who and why they were significant. They all stared somberly as if they were attending a wake for the lost souls. He started to gather them up when Draco put his hand atop Harry's to stop him. "I think you should destroy each picture, too."

"What? Why? You can only put the sliver of your soul in one object." Harry didn't know why, but for some reason, defacing the pictures seemed blasphemous.

"Because he enchanted the locket, if the pictures were in it, that's part of it."

"And next you'll have Harry cutting up the chain?" Ron huffed.

Harry didn't have a particular objection to cutting up the chain, but he still felt uneasy with the pictures. "This is all that's left of them, Draco."

"That would be the point, wouldn't it? You have to destroy the Dark Lord, not just here and there; he has to be completely annihilated. This isn't the time to get sentimental about the people who spawned him." Draco rolled Harry's hand over and placed the images face up on the stump.

"He's right, Harry." Hermione set her hand on Harry's shoulder. "I understand that it seems weird, but if there's any chance at all that Voldemort could use these pictures, then you need to destroy them."

"Bullocks! Harry doesn't have to do anything Malfoy says." Ron reached for the pictures, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

"It is weird that stabbing the locket didn't pierce the pictures." Harry stared down at the angry faces of Marvolo and Morfin and the sad, defeated face of Merope Gaunt. Taking the dagger up as he had before, he decided that Tom Jr. was the easiest place to start. He stabbed the handsome face in the picture and felt a surge of power warm his hands.

"See? It's bleeding." Draco sounded far too smug for Harry's taste.

Without looking, Harry could tell Ron had crossed his arms and gone quietly defensive. He exhaled and pulled the picture from the blade and stabbed into Marvolo. The same surge, the blood dripped over the portrait and began to pool with the other. He repeated the process with the rest of the faces, ending with Tom Riddle, Sr, whom Harry felt the most for. He knew what it was like to be caught up in something bigger than yourself. He couldn't blame the man for running away from Merope. Grisly work done, Harry started to gather together the pictures and the locket.

Draco grabbed the bundle and set it into his white apron. The blood blossomed in bright red stains in the satin. Though Harry might find that more interesting on another day, right now he felt too drained and too sad for all of those people who died because of the sad home life of Merope Gaunt.

"Of course," Hermione said as she got up and dusted her knees off. "The blood. Those pictures were made of his own blood, probably from pictures and memories of those people. The locket was Voldemort's tie not only to the founders of Hogwarts, but also to his family. Pure blood, familial blood, fascinating.".

Though Harry agreed with her, he didn't really want to think that much about it right now. He gave her a quick nod to acknowledge that he'd heard it. Harry stared at the bundle of wasted locket and crumpled paper as Draco wadded it up in his apron. "I'll throw it all into the fire, just in case. Can't be too careful." Then he looked at Harry with something that appeared to be admiration. He nodded and then strutted back to the house, leaving the trio behind.

"I think he likes nancing about in that get up. Look at the way he sways his hips." Ron had wrapped his arm around Hermione and held her tight against him. She rested her head against his broad chest and sighed.

"I don't think he does, and I don't think he's swaying his hips." Though he wouldn't put it past Draco to do such a thing, to Harry he looked more unsteady and unsettled than anything else.

"Then why do you think he wore it out here? D'ya think that he was worried that someone would show up out here and he'd need to look the part?" Ron nudged Hermione to start them walking back to the house.

"Ron, if Death Eaters showed up I think that what Malfoy was wearing would be the least of our collective problems," Hermione pointed out.

Harry quickened his pace as he walked to the house so they wouldn't see him blush, or his strange grin. He had another idea of why Draco might've shown up like that, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. Not to mention that no one he was with would be pleased with the notion. "I don't know, Slytherins are peculiar."

"You can say that again," Ron said. Harry could hear his derisive snort as Harry opened the door and stepped inside. In the relative gloom of the claustrophobic house, Harry grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

Were Harry honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd been intentionally avoiding Draco. If he were capable of _that_ kind of honesty, he might go on to acknowledge that the reason he was avoiding him was because he found the idea that Draco had dressed up in the maid's uniform_ for him_ was too tantalizing to give up. He knew that given the opportunity to dispute that idea, Draco would make sure that Harry regretted ever believing it. Of course, none of this even began to touch on why he found the concept appealing, because for now, Harry was happy in his ignorance.

Neither Snape nor the dress had reappeared in over a week. Draco continued to receive deliveries of treats and money from his mother. He was currently at the door talking to the pair of pikeys who went to the shop for them. Draco's posture indicated his irritation with dealing with them, but his was the only face they knew.

This was the first time he'd seen Draco in casual Muggle clothing. Unlike some of the Wizards he'd seen at the World Cup, Draco had a grasp on what to wear and wasn't standing there in a floral muumuu. In fact, he was well attired in tight-fitting jeans that hugged his pert, well-formed arse, and... The door slammed and Draco whirled around. He perked a brow at Harry's gaze, but didn't remark.

Like the calm before the storm, such juicy topics that would have been the source of much amusement, such as Draco's extended showers and Harry's leering, were never mentioned. Harry frequently walked into rooms where Ron and Hermione were speaking, only to watch them hush in his presence. However, he connected that behavior to what couples do as opposed to them discussing his odd behaviour. Oblivious to the silence, Harry tucked into another roasted meal Draco had prepared. "Duck?" he asked, looking up at Draco.

"Rabbit," he answered, giving Harry an odd look as he sat down at the table with the rest of them.

"It's good." Draco nodded in answer and went back to eating.

"Does Snape usually take this long between messages?" Hermione asked. It had been a few minutes since anyone had spoken above the din of tinny utensils scraping over chipped stoneware.

Draco jumped, having been deep in rumination. "He... I suppose sometimes he did." His head lowered to conclude the line of questioning.

"So he just left you here alone with Pettigrew to flounce about in that... dress?" Harry's tone was hostile; he wondered how or why Snape, if he cared about Draco at all, would leave him to this.

Draco didn't even look up. "You seemed to like that _dress_ all right, Potter. It would seem to me that given your druthers, I'd be wearing it a lot more." Though he ate his bite of rabbit apathetically, Harry noticed that Draco had not transfigured his clothing back to proper Wizarding attire.

"I... I've just... never... seen... a boy... dressed... it's unsettling!" Harry said, looking down at his food. "I've never even... seen a girl... like that."

"Well, there's a definite difference between a boy and a girl, Potter. Just because you're confused and lonesome for the Weaslette--"

"Don't you talk about her!" Ron hissed, leaning forward. He glared with equal venom at Draco and Harry. "Don't you dare talk about her, Malfoy. She and Harry are meant for each other. He's just got this _thing_ to do. A mission. Then he'll be back with her, so knock it off!"

"We're not meant for each other, Ron," Harry piped up as Draco waved Ron off and returned to expressionless eating. "If we were... well, I don't think she'd keep dating other blokes."

"Harry, she's just trying to make you jeal--" Hermione began in a tone that suggested a weary mother.

"I know what she's trying to do, and you know what? I don't care. If she wants to date Seamus, then she should date Seamus. And Dean. Hell, she should throw in Neville; I don't think he ever got a proper go at her! Yes, yes, then she could complete the set!" Harry barked.

Draco giggled and covered his mouth.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" all three shouted.

In reply, Draco dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and then tossed it next to his plate. "Well, it's been lovely," he sneered and rolled his eyes, "but I'm going to bed. I'll see you there... _lovey_," Draco called over his shoulder as he headed down the darkened hallway. His cloying tone elevated the tension in the room for everyone except Harry, whose stomach gave an excited flip in spite of the caustic delivery.

"Merlin, Harry, stop staring at his bum!" Ron said, grabbing Harry's shoulder to wheel him around.

"I was not!" Harry looked to Hermione for back up but she just shook her head.

"What's he done to you, Harry?" Ron's tone was sympathetic but his stance showed a strong urge to run after Draco and throttle him.

Hermione took Harry's hand and looked at him seriously. "Harry, it's all right if you're gay. We're your friends and we understand that." She looked to Ron for confirmation and he gave Harry an understanding nod. "But often in times of stress we start looking to one another for comfort and I just want to be sure that your feelings aren't just... confused."

Harry had always mourned the loss of his parents. He spent his whole life wishing that he'd had his parents with him for those casual touches, for support, for birthdays. This, he decided, was the one parental conversation he didn't regret missing. Hermione and Ron as surrogates made it just plain creepy. "Gay?"

"Harry, we see how you look at him. Just don't do anything you'll regret. As girlish as he appears, Draco Malfoy is very much a boy, and I don't think he's appropriate choice to experiment with." Hermione patted Harry's hand. Harry stared at it.

"Experiment? Look, I'm more than aware that he's a boy, Hermione." Harry yanked his hand back and then folded his arms over his chest. "I don't look at him in any particular way."

Ron snorted.

Harry ignored it and kept his eyes on Hermione. "He's attractive. Boys can find other boys attractive. He has a good sense of... er... style."

"It wasn't his _style_ you were staring at, mate." Ron put his hand on Hermione's shoulder and suddenly the image of parental concern was too overwhelming.

He felt the need to wipe those condescending looks off of their faces.

"Fine, I was staring at his arse. Is that what you want to hear? I was staring at his arse and_ I liked it._ I like looking at him in fishnet stockings and sometimes in the mornings if I think I can get away with it, I stare at him while he tosses off in the shower! You like hearing that? THAT I LIKE LOOKING AT MALFOY TOSSING IN THE SHOWER?" Ron and Hermione's eyes had widened, but they weren't fixed on Harry, but instead something over his shoulder. Harry slowly turned to see Draco.

Draco stood in the hallway, affecting a posture of composure, but something in his eyes was off. He looked scared. "Stop watching me in the shower, Potter," he mumbled as he brushed past the small group to get into the kitchen.

Harry stared at the floor, breathing slowly to try and calm himself. He heard the creaky cupboard open, then the clink of glass. The water tap turned on and shut off. Draco's footsteps back into the living area broke the silence as no one dared to say a word. Draco paused as if he were going to say something, but instead opted to head down the hall to the bedroom, his glass of water in hand. Harry looked up to watch Draco's progress down the hall.

"Stop looking at my arse, Potter."

--

Draco hadn't told Harry to sleep in the drawing room, but he didn't get the feeling that he was welcome in bed. There weren't loads of comfortable places to sleep in the cramped cottage. Pettigrew slept in the drawing room on the couch, and besides Harry didn't want chance being there when Snape fire called. So, he stayed at the kitchen table reading for most of the night in his indecision. Blearily looking up at the clock, he saw it was half-four. He couldn't sleep at the table, so he decided to try to sneak into bed. He'd deal with Draco in the morning.

Using a weak _Lumos_ spell to create a soft light, he headed down the darkened hall to the second door. Pushing it open, he crept into the room. He put his lit wand on the nightstand, noting that Draco was pressed against the edge of the bed-- probably out of habit, but Harry liked to believe he was expecting Harry to come back.

Harry pulled on his pyjamas as quietly as he could and crawled into bed. Picking up his wand, he brought it closer to Draco, cupping his hand around the glowing tip to further shield the light. Draco had such a sweet face when he was asleep-- so unbothered and blissful; no trace of a sneer. Lowering his wand from Draco's face he saw a tuft of white fur from his chin to his chest. On further inspection he found that Draco's arms were crisscrossed over something fluffy. Vaguely remembering Draco trying to hide something from him the morning he'd destroyed the Horcrux, Harry decided to investigate.

He stroked the side of it-- it was soft, but it wasn't warm. Draco rolled onto his back and Harry saw more of the shimmering fur and a spiraled, golden horn. The glittering tail revealed it for what it was-- a toy unicorn. Draco Malfoy had a stuffed animal.

Harry sat back on his heels and stared affectionately at what had once been his school nemesis. It was hard to imagine that this was the same boy who had attempted to terrorize him at Hogwarts. Now Harry understood what Draco must've been concealing the other morning. With a reducing spell he could hide his "little secret" wherever he wanted.

Harry knew the signs of someone faking sleep from six years of sharing a dorm. Draco wasn't terribly good at it. "What's its name?" he whispered.

The room was silent but for Draco's breathing.

Harry nudged him. "Come on."

The silence continued until Harry slid his hand on Draco's leg. Slapping it away as he squirmed, Draco whispered, "Lolly. But never call her that. You are not to refer to her by name or by what she is and you are never to touch her with your dirty hands. Try not to think of her either. And if you tell _anyone_ about her, I'll have you killed." With that announcement, Draco rolled over on top of her.

It was hard not to laugh. "Lolly? Why Lolly?"

"Don't say her name! I was young and I couldn't say many words." The pillows he'd pressed his face into muffled Draco's voice. Harry could see his shape in shadows through the sheets.

"Sorry." Harry was amused, but he was also too exhausted to properly tease him. Flopping down on his side of the bed, he ignored Draco's shifting as far away from him as he could get. "Well, it's late. Good night Malfoy... and friend."

Harry turned his back to Draco to let him have his privacy. It was probably for the best, because Harry was having a hard time concealing his smirk that a 17-year-old boy slept with a stuffed toy.

--

The next morning Harry awoke to the usual sound of the shower. Sitting up and pulling on his glasses, he quickly changed, trying to pretend that he hadn't noticed that the bathroom door was shut. He was almost past the threshold of the room when he halted, and turned back to stand in front of the closed loo door. Though he knew it was shut on purpose, he wanted to believe it had been an accident. When he turned the knob and found that there was no moving the door, his heart sank. Not only was the door locked, it was hexed. The hex was probably rudimentary and easy to break, but Draco's point was made.

Harry stabbed at breakfast, feeling despondent. Hermione and Ron weren't trying to be unsympathetic, but it was obvious that they didn't know what to say about his brooding. Draco joined them a few minutes earlier than usual, but no one spoke of it.

There were circles under his eyes, barely concealed by sloppy glamours. Harry wanted to take a perverse pride in Draco's evident lack of sleep, but he couldn't. It just fueled his confused and growing anger. In his mind, Draco knew that Harry had been spying on him. The only thing that changed was that now it was out in the open. He knew Draco saw him the first time it happened and was positive that they'd exchanged glances a few times since. The innocent act vexed him and after Draco shoved his plate away, Harry glared and said, "I want to talk to you about our food list. Next time those kids go to the store, I'd like it if you could get us some _lollies_."

"Excuse me?" Draco's respondent stare was murderous. Ron and Hermione just looked between the two of them, unsure of why a sweet would be so contentious.

"Lollies, _Malfoy_. Or does tossing off in the shower make you deaf?"

"Does watching me give you an _oral fixation_?" Draco spat back. He stood up and threw his napkin on the table. "Or maybe it's the withdrawal from seeing me that makes you want to _suck on something_, you little ponce?"

"Hah! You _knew_ I could see you! You knew it and you proved it by locking the door this morning! YOU LIKED IT!" Harry likewise stood and threw his napkin down as if initiating a duel.

Draco's face was a brilliant crimson and rapidly turning purple as he started to work up to what appeared might've been a wicked rant when everyone heard the flare of the hearth and Snape's drawling voice. Instantaneously, Draco's wand was out and he was standing in the square-necked uniform. Though Harry wasn't in his path, he shoved him hard, knocking him over a chair before he whirled around and bustled to the drawing room.

Had Harry's heart and possibly his arm not been broken, Draco's retreating form, with flaring white ruffles and a flash of knickers, might've been funny. But as the door to the drawing room slammed, Harry fought the urge to cry.

--

Hermione healed Harry's arm, which had only been bruised, but otherwise no one had spoken since Draco disappeared. Harry was just about to suggest they spy through the door when Draco appeared in the doorway. He avoided eye contact with Harry. Instead, he addressed Ron and Hermione; inviting them all to speak to Snape.

They lined up in front of the fire with Harry on one side and Draco on the other. Snape made it a point to speak to Draco as if no one else was tolerable to look at, which suited Harry just fine. "Of course Dumbledore informed me of the cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff but I have not been able to secure its location. However, I have heard tale of a secret chamber under Borgin and Burkes. It was a slip from the Dark Lord himself and I believe it to contain the silver shield of Rowena Ravenclaw."

Harry tilted his head. A shield-- that made sense. He'd begun to wonder, after destroying the locket, why a man would own a locket; it seemed rather girlish. Even Hufflepuff's cup seemed a little random. Tableware imbued with magical properties? He'd begun to suspect that he'd be actively seeking to destroy the fork of Gryffindor or the ancient comb of Ravenclaw. A shield, at least, had some heft to it.

His thoughts were interrupted by Draco's snicker. "Borgin would top himself off if he knew that he'd been literally sitting on something valuable that he could've had at no cost."

Snape returned the haughty sneer and nodded. "Indeed." He glanced at Harry and then returned to speaking to Draco. "I've also heard the Dark Lord speaking repeatedly of 'guarding the Fen.' I assume he means the area around Norfolk. It is legend that Salazar Slytherin hailed from the Fen; I would suppose that he had found the location. It is a wide area to search, I shall endeavor to narrow it, but in the mean time Draco, it would not hurt to read what you might from my library about Slytherin folklore whilst the others are rooting out the shield. I shall attempt to find more books from Hogwarts and maps of the era."

Draco nodded.

"Wait, Malfoy's coming with us," Harry announced. Everyone looked at him, surprised.

"As invaluable as I'm certain he would be to you, Potter, he must remain."

Even though he was helping them, Harry hated every word from Snape's mouth. His face twisted up. "Why, so you can molest him?"

Snape affected being nonplussed but Harry wasn't buying it. "Mr Potter, I would think you to keep your deviant fantasies to yourself. No, Mr Malfoy must remain here to protect his family. Whilst I am generally the only one to check in on him, the Dark Lord is hard to predict. I'm certain you and your friends are up to the task of retrieval on your own."

"And if we're not?" Harry knew they were, but he couldn't help pushing the issue.

Waving his hand dismissively, "Then at least Malfoy and I will be covered."

Draco sneered at Harry and he felt a spark of the old hatred-- self-serving, bastard Slytherins. "Right then. I suppose now we'll have to just guess where the chamber was hidden?"

"Good luck, Potter." With that bit of insincere dialogue, Snape vanished.

--

Harry didn't like this. He didn't like any of it.

He didn't like leaving Draco at the house.

He hadn't liked packing for who knows how long.

He didn't like stealing away in the night to Apparate to Diagon Alley.

And he damn sure didn't like sleeping on the floor of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes.

Not only because he feared it would put the twins and their store in jeopardy, but because the Pygmy Puffs rattled in their cages. Furthermore, he was afraid that every time he turned around he'd either jostle something that would explode, or worse, that catch sight of Ron and Hermione snogging again.

Not only was it distressing of its own right, but also it reminded him of how little of _that_ he was getting. He'd broken up with Ginny and blown it with Draco. The break up with Ginny was less than bothersome. Particularly since three of the five days that they'd been hiding out here, Ginny had made special effort to stop by to show off a bracelet and matching earrings that Seamus had given her.

Hermione had attempted to speak to him in indulgent tones about how Ginny was really not over him and was just doing a poor job of trying to lure him back; it just made Harry irritated with both of them. _What if I don't want to get back together with her?_ But neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to grasp that.

The more Harry tried to push Draco from his mind, the more he thought about him. It was the little things that tricked him. Like a new batch of edible Dark Marks, or the new product they'd introduced; a feather duster that distributed dust rather than shuffling it away. The prank lollies choked him up. Harry secreted away a few of the Marks and a feather duster. He decided Draco wouldn't be terribly amused by the farting unicorn or black tongue sweets, so he left those.

After consulting the clock, he sat up, realizing he must've dozed off, as it was half four now and they needed to head to Borgin & Burkes to try to get into the chamber again. The store had surprisingly high turnover of merchandise and it was becoming quite tiresome to try and remember what they'd looked at before. Hermione had started to take extensive notes on what went where, accompanying it with sketches.

Harry was quite frustrated. They hadn't even a clue as to where the chamber might be-- let alone what horrors there might be awaiting them.

--

"What if there are spiders?" Ron asked again as Harry sat down to go through a trunk that he knew wouldn't hold the key, but needed searching anyway. They had taken some of the black darkness powder (that the twins had managed to hold back from the Ministry's seizure) to keep the front of Borgin's dark while they used their lighted wands to search.

The store hadn't looked as big as it was from the outside. It had to be wizard space, but Harry had started the glum theory that the store was actually _growing_. "Then there will be spiders. But given who Riddle is, I think it's more likely to be snakes," said Harry.

Hermione sighed, flipping through the pages of notes and then shaking her head at the human bones on the tray. "Well there are snakes; I'd think Voldemort would've tried to change it since he knows you're a Parselmouth, Harry."

"Does he know that?" Harry furrowed his brows and then wrenched his hand back from something slimy in the trunk. He looked at the black goop in his hand and wrinkled his nose.

"OF COURSE!" Hermione exclaimed. She threw her notepad towards a wall.

"Well, I'm glad you're so sure. I don't think he was in my head when I talked to snakes, but then again, I guess if he's figured out I've opened the Chamber… not that he's kept particularly brilliant track of things like that in the past. You know, for an evil genius--"

"No, not that. Harry! We've been going about this the wrong way. How many things have we seen in this shop that have remained here than a couple of days?" She crossed her arms and looked at the boys expectantly.

Harry took in her frazzled hair and tired, but bright eyes. "Er... I don't know?"

"What about that necklace?" She prompted.

Darting a glance around the store quickly, finally resting on the glass case where it had lived, Harry saw that it had been replaced by what appeared to be a jewel-encrusted werewolf head of all things. "Er, didn't Malfoy buy that? It should be in the Ministry's hands."

Hermione stomped her foot. "No, no, no, Harry! Where did you look for it? Where did you _know_ to look for an item that hadn't moved for a couple of years?"

"The glass case?" Realization dawned on Harry and he stood up and dodged through the narrow stacks of merchandise to get to the case. "Of course. The fixtures-- those don't change. The register is always in that corner as well, do you think it could be that?" he asked as he started to look over the case.

"Borgin would never have let Riddle alone with his money. Probably never rang up a bloody thing," said Ron as he followed Harry. "Try Parseltongue."

Harry nodded and hissed, "Open up." No such luck. He turned back to Ron, "Well, I guess we can't expect everything to be that easy."

"You're still hissing. That's creepy," Ron fussed at Harry's continued use of Parseltongue.

Clearing his throat, he went back to English, "Sorry." Harry looked over the case again, finally settling his gaze on the base. At the bottom of it was a black pillar, but upon further examination with his wand pressed against it, Harry saw tiny creases in strange patterns over the serpentine-heavy stone. "A puzzle box?" He sat back and looked up at his friends, settling on Ron.

Ron lit up. "I love those!" They switched places and Harry stood behind him, watching Ron crawl around the floor, searching out intentional lines in the black marble. His fingers slid along the glossy black, prodding now and then to test different surfaces. Tapping with his index finger, he finally moved to the opposite side and pushed.

There was a high-pitched squeal of stone sliding together and then one segment of the base shifted and stuck out at the other end. Ron scrambled up and moved to that side, meticulously pushing the pieces around until one stopped, stuck and zapped Ron's hand. Immediately it bubbled up in puss-filled blisters. "Ow! Sodding Slytherin sadist!"

Hermione sighed and muttered a counter curse that appeared to at least halt the blistering. "It's the best I can do now. Hold on." She pulled off her sweater and wrapped it around Ron's hand. He winced, but thanked her and they traded a quick kiss, which Harry turned his back to. After a few more pushes on the black box, the glass case turned slowly, winding down to reveal a sinking spiral staircase.

Harry started down it and looked up at Hermione and Ron, half hoping that they would be sensible and stay where it was safe. "There might be spiders, Ron."

"I'll make them tap dance," he teased, nudging Harry, in spite of his blanching at the notion.

Hermione wrapped an arm around Ron and another around Harry. "We're here, Harry. No matter what."

As the staircase reached the bottom of the pitch-black pit, Harry squinted to get his bearings. It seemed that his wand did very little good against the dimness, as if Tom Riddle had discovered the darkness powder before the twins and coated the chamber with it. All at once the gloom subsided and all around him were Dementors. Harry felt woozy and grabbed onto Ron.

"Spiders!" screeched Ron.

"Oh, no I've failed!" shrieked Hermione.

Harry closed his eyes; trying desperately to concentrate on his happiest memory as he felt the cold, slimy hands of a Dementor on his throat.

_Hold on_. His mind rapidly wrapped around what he'd heard the others say and as he felt them cowering against him, knowing they were seeing something vastly different than his vision hundreds of Dementors. Pointing his wand blindly, he shouted, "_Riddikulus_!"

The spell emanated from his wand in a blinding flash of yellow-white light, pouring out to cover each of the Dementor-Boggarts. One-by-one they popped into the first thing that had entered Harry's mind.

Harry's jaw dropped and Ron grabbed his arm. "Now I'm _really_ scared, Harry."

While Harry knew that laugher was the best way to stave off Boggarts, he wasn't entirely sure what sexual arousal would do. He tried not to look at the willowy Boggarts surrounding him with their soft skin, fishnets and swishing tutus. Instead, he looked at Hermione, who had a mildly disapproving look on her face. He let out a nervous laugh.

Hermione nodded and let out a forced-sounding laugh as the hundreds of Dracos in their little black uniforms and pert arses in frilly knickers all started to flee, tripping over themselves and scrambling over each other to escape the laughter.

Ron started to laugh for real. "If only it were that easy to get rid of Malfoy." He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, but just slapped him on the back.

As the crowd of Dracos began to clear, they saw a lighted pedestal with the shield atop it a the end of the long hall. Well, Harry glanced at it before leering at one of the Dracos crawling away, his pettipantied arse flexing and straining under the stretchy, sheer fabric as the frills of the petticoat dragged along the floor.

"Harry!" Ron yanked his arm to pull him out of his daze.

"Right then." Harry tried to ignore the looks his friends were giving him by rushing up to the pedestal. He was knocked back by an incredible gust of wind. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione caught him before he fell to the hard floor. Now his face was bright red with windburn. Hermione slid her hand over it and looked back at the shield.

Upon closer examination (or at least as close as they could get), it was quite ornate and silver with an attacking bronze eagle on the front and a large R inlaid with mother of pearl and bone. While Harry realized from his brief encounter that there were swirling currents of wind around it, he could not see them. He pulled off his cloak and eyed Ron and Hermione. They both shrugged. Throwing the garment at the shield, it got caught up in the momentum of the swirling wind and then was summarily ripped apart. Thread and swatches of material were spat back at them as they shielded their faces from the onslaught.

"That seems bad," Ron said.

Harry nodded, "Really bad."

Hermione was pensive. "So, Dumbledore's arm was withered and looked burned. Fire. And the two of you went down into a lake, so that's water. This would be air. It would figure that Riddle would incorporate the elements. There's much strength to be derived from it, not to mention the synchronicity."

"Great theory, although there's seven Horcruxes. Seven seems to be Voldemort's favoured number," Harry pointed out.

"Maybe it's just coincidence, but I don't think so," said Hermione.

Harry shrugged and looked at her, wondering what the _element for a journal or a ring_ was, but he didn't want to push it. The Boggarts seemed to be catching on to their lack of humour, and were making their stiletto-heeled way back towards them.

"Hm, the opposite of wind is earth, isn't it?" asked Hermione.

"Great, let's throw some earth in there, then we can all have sand in our eyes, be attacked by Boggarts, and still not have the shield." Harry didn't mean to be snappy but he was becoming unnerved and he didn't know quite how to handle it. The Boggarts were losing their Draco shape and Harry wasn't sure he could put up another massive spell and still have the energy for this task.

"What else stops wind?" Hermione pondered.

"Walls," Ron answered in a flat tone.

"Walls." Hermione looked at Ron seriously for a moment and then nodded. "Then we'll have to become walls for Harry."

"What?" Harry looked between them in confusion. Ron shrugged and looked at Hermione.

"Anything the wind can get through will rip apart. We saw that with your cloak. It's porous. If we're transfigured into walls, then we can't be torn." Hermione nodded and tested how close she could get to the shield before she endured a few scrapes with her hand.

There were a lot of things Harry didn't know; one of them was how to turn his friends into walls. Not in the literal sense, because Hermione was teaching him that spell already. What he didn't know how to do was to use these spells in order to intentionally put his best friends in harm's way. He appealed to Ron, "I don't... I can't do this. What if it doesn't work? What if I lose you?"

"Harry, you won't lose us. That's why Dumbledore told you to tell us these things, because we're to protect you. In a lot of ways we're already your walls. This is who we are. This is what we do. We're your team. Hermione and I are here to help you. Even Draco, in a rather... twisted way," he said, looking over her shoulder at the gathering Boggarts whose faces were melting into spiders and looked quite eager to eat him, "is here. So just do it."

Harry looked to the changing half-Draco-half-Dementor Boggarts and it spurred him on. Ron clapped his hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, mate. You know Hermione knows what she's doing."

She looked less certain than Ron, but Harry decided to put that out of his mind as he cast the freshly-learned spells. She froze first and then spread into a hard, opalescent marble wall. He pushed her with magic, knowing there was no way he could physically move a giant slab, until she butted up against the pedestal. The shield wobbled, but did not fall. Nodding to Ron, he then followed the procedure with him, creating a V angle in which to walk through to get his prize.

Testing the area between the whirling vortex with his hand, he found there to be no wind and walked unscathed to the stand and pulled the shield down. The action caused a loud wailing as the entire room filled with the vicious wind. Boggarts were torn to shreds, left in indecorous pieces of frayed fabric, blood and bone all over the slickening, dark floor. Harry nearly panicked, but wedged between his friends, the wind wasn't able to touch him. Using his wand to pull them so close to him that he could barely move, he headed towards the rolling stairwell, dragging his marbleized friends inch-by-inch along the hall.

The culvert in which the spiral staircase stood was narrow. Harry slipped into it and then set his hand on the edge of Hermione's marble facade. The wind bit at his wrist, gashing it and the side of his face as he ended the incantation and yanked Hermione in with him. He repeated that with the dark red stone of Ron's marble. They were scratched and wind-burnt, but otherwise unscathed.

--

The day was marching on into evening and Harry sat outside of the Burrow listening to the ordinary sounds of the Weasley household preparing for dinner. The actual destruction of the Horcrux had been somewhat anticlimactic. When they'd run up the spiraling staircase, daylight was just starting to break out on the horizon. Ron had quickly gotten the glass case to seal up and they were careful to restore everything to how it had been so that their presence would be undetected.

Ron suggested that they destroy the Horcrux somewhere neutral. Harry suspected Ron just wanted to get him closer to Ginny again. So it was that they'd come to the Burrow. Harry drove the elfin dagger through the breast of the bronze eagle, shattering the inlay. He didn't know what came out of the ring, but thus far he'd witnessed ink from the journal and blood from the pictures. The shield, however, simply crumbled, fading from a solid, gleaming metal to chalky ash. _Ashes to ashes, Tom,_ Harry thought.

He ran his hand through the fine silt, thinking about how eventually he was going to have to kill someone. It wasn't that Voldemort didn't deserve it; quite the opposite if such an argument could be made. He knew he would do it. He knew he could. It just made him incredibly sad to know that he had to. If he didn't, Voldemort wouldn't stop. There would be no quarter, no mercy from his end. Harry could show none either.

Ginny took a spot next to Harry; the scent of flowers awoke him to her presence just before she reached for his dusty hand. "You're that much closer to being finished, Harry," she said, interlacing their fingers. She rested her head on his shoulder.

Harry fought the urge to recoil. He grit his teeth as something stabbed into his shoulder. That was when he remembered the earrings that she was so proud of Seamus giving her. He clenched his jaw and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad. I've really missed you, you know. We can finally get back together and move on with our lives."

Briefly, Harry wondered if Ginny shouldn't be in school. He didn't remember her being here when they arrived. Did Ron tell the rest of the Weasleys about his outburst over Draco? He wondered if that was why Ginny was here now.

"Harry, are you listening to me?" Ginny asked, lifting her head from his shoulder.

"Sorry, I was just--" Harry turned back to face her, only to be confronted with her lips on his. He shoved her back by her shoulders. He felt something inside of him break. It wasn't just that he wanted Draco, he knew now more than ever that _he didn't want Ginny. _

"Ron's right, you really _are_ a fag," she hissed. Her face was filled with the fury of rejection, and perhaps if she'd said anything else Harry would've empathized.

"You taste like Seamus." He felt a savage glee in her bewildered expression. That he'd never kissed Seamus (nor wanted to) didn't matter, that flicker of doubt and hurt in her eyes was all he wanted.

"You... you're... you didn't..." she insisted as she scrambled up to her feet.

Harry also stood-- his face impassive to fan her doubt. He glared at the back of her head as she ran back to the house. Only then did he exhale, simultaneously proud and furious with himself for his cruelty. He toed his trainer into the ash and then finally kicked it around till it was nothing but a thin veil of whiteness on the patchily grassed ground. He looked up at the Burrow, which had gone eerily silent as they tried to deal with whatever Ginny was telling them.

Feeling a definite chill in the air that had nothing to do with the sun going down, he made up his mind to head back to Spinner's End. He closed his eyes, trying not to think of how angry Ron and Hermione were going to be that he left without them. After the loyalty they'd shown him, they deserved better than this. He prayed they'd understand and follow him after dinner. With a loud crack Harry Disapparated.


	5. Chapter 5

"No... I don't like it. It hurts." Harry's eyes widened as he approached the front door of Spinner's End. He heard Draco's whining drawl through the open window.

He looked over his shoulder as if someone might be following, but he was alone. Part of him wanted to rush in and stop whatever it was that was hurting Draco, but the voice sounded more petulant than afraid, so he snuck in through the door to continue listening.

"If you'd just let me do it, it wouldn't hurt," Snape's voice purred. A flash of pale emerald light washed over the open drawing room door. The whoosh sounded like arrival by Floo. "Here, give me that, I'll just--"

A hard slap cut Snape off. "Don't touch me," Draco snapped, "I said you could watch, and that's it."

"Considering all I'm doing for you and your 'friends'..." Snape began.

Harry quickened his pace to the drawing room, peeking his head through the door. He had to stand on tiptoes to see what was going on. The knot that formed in his stomach at what he saw made him wish he hadn't looked.

Draco was in his maid's uniform and his white hat was tangled in his hair on the back of his head. His legs were sprawled out in front of Snape, who was hunched in front of him, smudged in soot from his recent travel. The firelight illuminated a rather ordinary feather duster between Draco's pale legs. Propped up on one elbow, Draco's hand wrapped around the dark handle and he rocked his wrist back and forth; the purple feathers waved as the duster moved. "They're not my friends," said Draco

Snape's attention was fixed between Draco's legs, on the handle of the feather duster sliding in and out of Draco. Harry's heart stopped and he grabbed onto the doorframe to keep from losing his balance. Too many emotions hit him at once and all he could feel was cold-- numb and cold.

"Stop it," Draco snapped. One pointed shoe was upon Snape's chest as the man reached for him again. "Stop trying to touch me." He ground the sharp heel into Snape's shoulder.

Hissing, Snape grabbed Draco's ankle hard enough to make Draco wail and bring his hands up to hit Snape's chest. "You stupid boy!"

The aggression was enough to spur Harry into action. The sickening thud of Draco's head smacking on the floor incensed him.

"He said stop," Harry growled as he stepped into the room, pulling his wand. Snape looked up at Harry in shock. Draco froze for a moment and then dropped his hands from Snape's chest and turned his face away in shame.

"Well, well, Potter to the rescue, I suppose you think--" Snape's monologue was cut off by Harry grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the tray next to the fire. He tossed it into the flames and shoved Snape in after it. He took great pleasure in the violent look on Snape's face as Harry ordered the Floo, "to Hell." He hoped it really would.

Wiping his hands free of the fine, silvery powder, Harry turned around and looked down at the black handle sticking out of Draco and then up into his flushed face. Draco refused to meet his gaze. "Why?" Harry asked.

Draco didn't even try to hide the indignity of his position, but left his legs open; his hands remained limp at his sides. "I can't..."

"Oh, clearly you can," Harry said, his exhaustion overriding his anger, "Just not with me."

Caught somewhere between admiration and defiance, Draco finally glared back at Harry. "Maybe I just don't like you."

That hurt. Harry swallowed hard. "Then why are you doing all of this?" The toe of Harry's shoe brushed against the feathers of the duster. "You tried to protect us from Snape."

Closing his eyes, Draco went limp against the floor again. "I'm not doing this for you; I'm doing this for my parents."

"Not even _you_ believe that, do you?" Harry knew he was way out on a limb, but Draco looked obscene and frail, so vulnerable with his eyes closed and his head turned away. Kneeling next to him, Harry stroked his fingers along Draco's jaw, tilting his head up. He brushed his thumb over Draco's lips, casting his eyes over his expressionless face and closed eyes. Then he leaned in and pressed their lips together. His lips were silky-soft and pliant and they surrendered easily to Harry's coaxing. Soon their arms were entwined.

As Draco sat up, he whimpered in discomfort and Harry gently pried the feather duster out of him and tossed it aside. He gathered Draco up in his arms and carried him to bed.

--

Harry held Draco, pressing his face against his chest. He knew he must smell awful, but for once Draco wasn't snarking. In fact, he was lying rather still, allowing Harry to stroke his hair and the side of his face. As if he could read Harry's mind about how still he was, he shifted on his side, making the crinoline rustle.

"You should take this off," said Harry.

Draco's body stiffened, but he didn't say anything.

"I just meant that you should get into your pyjamas, this can't be comfortable," Harry whispered against his forehead.

"You should have a shower."

"I know." Harry didn't make any moves to get up, but just continued to stroke Draco's hair. "Did he... I mean... have you...?"

"No. That was the first time." Draco shifted closer; pressing his face more insistently at Harry's sternum as if the suggestion of something like that happening disquieted him.

Harry was flooded with relief and kissed the top of Draco's head. It didn't sound like he wanted to do it, but he wasn't sure if he should pry or not. He was at a loss for words, so he resettled his arms around Draco. "I'm glad."

Draco remained silent, but one of his arms circled around Harry and hung around him awkwardly.

"He's old enough to be your father."

"My father thinks I should... do what he wants me to. Snape's done a lot for me and my family."

"Is that why you did that?"

Draco nodded against his chest.

Tightening his arms protectively around Draco, Harry whispered, "What do you want to do?"

"Hide."

The answer was so simple and plaintive that it broke Harry's heart and he clung to Draco, trying not to think about what he caught him doing, or what Snape had seen, focusing instead on how scared Draco was. Of course Lucius Malfoy would want Draco to give Snape what he wanted. Lucius believed Snape was Voldemort's right hand man. He'd want that prestige and to get back in Voldemort's good graces.

"I can't breathe!" Draco wheezed.

"Sorry," whispered Harry as he loosened his grip. He let Draco sit up and watched him examining himself in the maid's uniform. Draco looked so morose as he smoothed down the wrinkled fabric over the abdomen. He felt a pang of guilt for fetishising Draco's humiliation. "You should put on your pyjamas."

"But you like this." Draco reached up into his hair and frowned when he discovered that his hat was missing.

"I like you... Draco." It was the first time he'd called him by his first name to his face. Harry wasn't sure how it would go over.

Draco blushed with pleasure and looked a little coy. Then his features steeled over again. "So you want to touch me now?" He looked just past Harry, over his shoulder.

It was Harry's turn to blush, which he did. He sat up and shook his head. "I want to have a shower, and I want you to change into your pyjamas."

Seeing Draco look to the nightstand where he knew Lolly was hidden, Harry suppressed his urge to smile and nodded instead. He passed Draco, taking his own pyjamas with him. As much as he wanted to touch Draco, he wasn't ready to touch him like _that_. Not yet, anyway. What he very much wanted to do was to go back to holding him. So he showered, washing the grime and old cobwebs he'd collected from Borgin and Burke's as quickly as he could.

When he returned to the room, he half expected Draco to be on the other side of the bed, feigning sleep. He was quite surprised to find him instead in the middle of the bed, clutching Lolly, and wide-awake. Harry beamed at him, pleased that he wasn't the only one who wanted to go back to how they'd been. He slipped under the covers and wiggled closer with his arms out, but his eyes stopped on the stuffed unicorn.

Draco followed Harry's gaze to Lolly and he tightened his arms around her, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"I just... I thought you didn't want me to touch her." Harry felt awkward with his arm out, so he dropped it.

Draco looked down at Lolly and after a long consideration, he decided, "I think it's all right for tonight." That pronouncement made, he slithered forward against Harry, the squashy animal pressed between their chests.

Harry fought sleep for as long as he could just to watch the silken strands of Draco's hair sliding through his fingers, but he was exhausted after a long and exciting day. As he drifted off, he thought about Draco in the maid's uniform. He decided that as much as he enjoyed seeing Draco in it, he would do his best to see to it that he never had to wear it again.

--

There was a loud crash from the other room that sounded of glass breaking and furniture tearing, followed by loud shrieks in familiar voices. Harry had run down the hall, glasses askew on his face, before he even registered that he'd woken up alone. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he braced himself for Armageddon-- Death Eaters, Voldemort, dead friends and the final show down he wasn't ready for. So he was relieved to find Ron and Hermione crouched behind the broken kitchen table lobbing fistfuls of fry up at Draco.

"It's not my fault!" Draco wailed, in part due to the fact that his once proud, delicately scalloped beige robes were now forever ruined by chunks of sausage trailing grease.

"YOU MADE HARRY CRAZY, HE WOULD NEVER HAVE SAID THOSE THINGS TO GINNY IF-- Oh, hullo Harry," said Ron, hiding behind a sheepish Hermione, whose hands were coated in shiny yellow egg yolk.

Draco shrieked and ran behind Harry, setting his hands lightly on Harry's waist as he peeked out over his shoulder. Harry pressed his lips together to keep from giggling as he felt a chunk of egg fall from Draco's hair onto his shoulder. On the bright side, it didn't seem that Hermione and Ron were angry with him for running away from the Burrow. On the down side, breakfast was ruined.

"Tell him we're not… that I don't… well, at least that I'm not. We all know you are, but it's not me! I didn't do anything!" Draco's voice was distinctly hysterical, and if his words weren't bordering on being insulting, Harry probably would've laughed out loud.

"I SAW YOU TWO WRAPPED AROUND EACH OTHER LAST NIGHT!" Ron looked down at the bowls for something else to throw, but remembered that Harry was in the line of fire and shoved his hands in his pockets.

The shouted revelation caused Harry to flush and he felt Draco hide his face against the back of his shoulder. The soft tendrils of hair tickled the back of his neck, causing goosebumps. "Look, Ron, I've told you before that I had no interest in Ginny. It's not Malfoy's fault."

"Harry, she's just," Hermione started. She stopped when Harry's hands went up, fingers splayed in an entreaty to not go on.

"I know. I know. 'She just wants to be with me-- dating someone else worked the last time.' I just don't want to be with her. Look, I broke up with her to protect her and she treated it like a game. It's not a game. It's life and death. I spent the summer not liking her. I do like Malfoy however, and we're…"

A small voice squawked from behind Harry. "I'm not gay!"

The entire room groaned. Even Pettigrew, who had been sitting silently in the corner, managed to roll his eyes against Draco's Imperius.

"What? I'm not! I like girls!"

"I walked in on you with a feather duster in your…" Harry protested, whirling around. Ron and Hermione got up from behind the table to flank Harry and glare at Draco.

"Shh!"

"A feather duster--"

"In his--"

"That was so my parents wouldn't be hurt!" Draco explained as if that would make sense. Seeing the baffled expressions on Hermione and Ron's faces, he exhaled. "Snape wanted me to." Harry grabbed Draco, pulling him close in reactionary protectiveness. Draco just glowered at Ron and Hermione like a defiantly wet cat. "It doesn't mean I'm gay!"

Hermione sighed. "No, that doesn't make you gay if you were coerced, but you were… snuggled up with Harry…"

"The room gets cold!" Draco protested.

Ron stifled a laugh as Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Draco, I'm going to become offended very soon."

The owl tapping at the window interrupted whatever Draco was about to say, giving him the easy out of wriggling past Harry. Hermione removed the hex from the drawing room door and Draco pranced inside as if he weren't covered in breakfast. He threw open the window and grabbed for the scroll. The owl contentedly nipped at bits of food on Draco's robe as he unfurled his correspondence.

Harry stepped into the room first, although he didn't want to push this issue, at least not when he saw the horrified look on Draco's face. It seemed impossible for Draco to grow any paler than he naturally was, but somehow, he'd managed it. Draco looked up at him and thrust the note into Harry's hand.

Narcissa explained to Draco that he was to be moved somewhere else, somewhere with Snape. The note went on to detail how Snape didn't believe Spinner's End to be safe for Draco any longer. He could only be guaranteed protection if he stayed at Snape's side. Reading between the lines, even Narcissa appeared to be suspicious of Snape's motives, but her message fell short of telling Draco to run. The one thing Harry couldn't tell from the letter was whether Narcissa was all right with what her son would have to do. The words made it sound like she was struggling to remain calm, but the tone sounded angry and helpless. He wondered what she'd say if she knew Draco had options.

"Greasy bugger's trying to get Malfoy away from you?" Ron asked Harry quietly as Draco blushed and stared glumly out of the window.

Hermione sat beside Draco, ignoring the disdainful look she received in response. She tried to comfort him by striking up a conversation. Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance but answered anyway. After trading a few comments, he became more interested in their exchange and sat up. The owl, deciding that he was quite full of fry up, flew off again with no return message.

Harry shook his head as he tried to follow their conversation. "I always thought that the Theory of Perlaxas Maganenum negated the Law of Nemesio," Hermione said.

Draco leaned closer, becoming more engrossed in into the conversation. "Of course you'd think that, but that's because you can't get past the Quakalona curves. If you were to reread that chapter…"

Harry looked at Ron who looked back at him, his face mirroring his confusion. At least Draco was talking. Ron turned to mend the furniture and clean the room, and then looked at Harry, who was eyeing Pettigrew curiously. "We can't just let him leave with Snape. Not if that pervert intends to--"

"I agree. I'm just not sure how we can keep him here without compromising the safety of his parents," Harry said, relieved that Ron felt some mercy towards Draco.

"Do you think he knew this was coming?"

Pondering the question, Harry directed the dishes to the kitchen, where they cleaned and shelved themselves. "I don't think he had much of a choice up until now."

"Good on him for cuddling up to you," Ron said pointedly.

Harry's stomach knotted up. Was he forcing himself on Draco like Snape had? He wondered about Draco's denial. They'd all laughed at it, but what if Draco really wasn't gay? Worse yet, what if Draco had cuddled up to him for protection? He felt the blood drain from his face. "I-- I guess it is… convenient."

Ron appeared remorseful for his harsh conclusion, "You really like him."

It felt good to recognize and finally admit it, in spite of Draco's denial. "I really do."

Ron nodded and grinned sympathetically, "I hope he likes you back."

"I hope so too." Harry sighed and looked at his blue-grey trainers.

--

Draco seemed mollified by the intellectual conversation with Hermione, but soon retired to wash the remnants of breakfast off. He hadn't returned to face them, and no one seemed to know enough of what to say to try and bring him back out. So Ron and Harry had a conversation about Quidditch, while Hermione found a book about the history of local geography and attempted to research other possible Horcrux locations. As she had been staring at the same page for the past two hours, Harry figured she hadn't made much progress.

Lunch had come and gone with nary a peep from the bedroom. They'd settled on sandwiches and debated bringing one in to Draco. Harry had gone so far as to make one and stood in front of the door, but remembering the anguished look on Draco's face after he'd read his mother's letter, decided to give him till dinner and retreated.

Harry sat for much of the afternoon rereading Narcissa's missive, searching for any possible way that she would be coding a message telling Draco to save himself, but he could not glean anything of the sort. She sounded remorseful, even resentful, but she hadn't warned Draco off Snape.

Ron, Hermione and Harry finished their dinner in stilted silence. "If you want to… you could sleep on the floor in our room," Hermione offered, much to Ron's dismay.

"No, this is ridiculous. He needs to eat." Harry summoned a plate and portioned out some spaghetti, which hadn't been terribly good, but at least it hadn't been roast meat again. Hermione gave Harry a wry smile and Ron nodded. "I might be right back." He stood up and straightened his shoulders and headed to their room.

Knocking produced nothing, so Harry opened the door. The room was lit with three sputtering candles. A book was left face-down on the bed. Draco was nowhere in sight. Harry stepped inside, his heart beating frantically. All at once, Harry felt his arm pulled and he was yanked forward. The door slammed shut behind him and he was thrown against it. His head made contact with the wood and he felt headachy and dizzied.

Eyes wide, Harry couldn't seem to bring into focus the person in front of him, who was plundering his mouth too fast and too hard. It wasn't until he could smell the citrus and felt the tendrils of Draco's hair against his face that he started to relax. A little. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and awkward press of noses. Whereas their first kiss had been confused and soft; this was rushed, desperate and had an edge of resentment. Harry tried to regain control, but he was foolishly trying to keep the spaghetti on the plate. He dropped it when Draco's hand pressed over the front of his trousers, fondling him. "Draco, stop!"

Draco didn't respond to Harry's plea. He leaned against Harry's hands as Harry pushed him away. He didn't speak, but Draco's bloodshot and swollen eyes said it all.

Breathless, Harry scrambled for something to say. "I thought you weren't gay." He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.

His eyes glistening, Draco let out a choked sob and croaked, "I don't know… I don't know what I am. I'm not like you. I can't… I can't just decide these things on a whim."

Releasing Draco's shoulders, Harry wrapped his arms around him. "Don't cry, Draco," he whispered.

"I'm not crying," Draco sobbed. Harry stroked his hair gently and patted his back. "I don't cry. I'm just… sensitive."

Harry kissed his temple and nodded. He wasn't going to argue, this wasn't the time. "I know, I know." It hurt so much to see Draco like this, to feel his slender body pressing against him, tense with emotion. He clung tighter.

"Don't make me go with him. I don't want to go, please don't make me…." Draco pled. "I know he has information that… that you can't get otherwise but… but I'll make it worth your while, I swear."

Harry wasn't sure what heartbreak really felt like up until that moment, but now he was hot with it. He was short of breath and shocked into keeping his face as neutral as he could, even though no one could see it. He squeezed Draco tighter, wishing he'd never said that; wishing that he could still believe that Draco would want anything from him other than to be protected, but wishing most of all, that he could cry. _You already make it worth my while._ "You don't have to go with him, Draco," he managed.

Draco started to force another harsh kiss on him and Harry pushed hard enough that Draco fell back a few steps. "You want me," Draco panted, looking baffled. "I've seen how you look at me."

Harry could only stare at Draco, feeling anger and pity warring. He mouthed a few words, but he could add voice to nothing. He felt incredibly stupid for having read Draco's gestures wrong all this time. Clearly, he had been trying to enamor Harry simply to have a failsafe. The fishnets, the clingy jeans, and everything else, had all been carefully chosen to cultivate his attraction. How could he have been so stupid? "I thought you wanted me, too."

Draco looked ready to say something, but instead blushed brilliantly and looked away. He took a few steps backwards and then sat on the bed. He brought his hands up to undo his pyjamas, starting at the collar.

Harry ignored him, instead turning his attention to repairing the dinner and floating it onto Draco's lap.

Draco stared at the plate curiously for a moment and then peered at Harry. "What's this?"

"Dinner, Draco. You need to eat." Harry headed towards the bathroom after pulling his pyjamas from the dresser.

"But what about…" Draco asked, tugging at his robe.

"Eat up, tomorrow we're leaving." With that, Harry shut the door to the loo and stared in the mirror. Only then could he let himself cry.

The next morning, Draco left the door to the bathroom open while he showered. Harry disregarded it and went to breakfast.

--

"But if I vanish, then my mum will be left out in the cold to fend for herself against the Dark Lord! She'll be slaughtered!"

Harry rubbed at his temples. "Draco, we have very few options here. If we stay here, then you're probably going to have to do something unpleasant eventually. I'm sorry that you're in this position but it's really not my fault, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop yelling at me. I am trying to help. We all are."

Hermione looked at Harry in shock-- even Ron seemed a bit surprised with Harry's coldness.

Draco appeared too hysterical to notice. "I can't just leave her to die! As little as I want to do that with him-- I can't just…"

"Perhaps we can move her with us," Hermione offered.

"She won't, she won't come… she'll call me a traitor!" Draco paced, shoving his sleeves up. They fell back down immediately.

Harry ignored the nervous fidgeting and stolen glances. "Well maybe you should just do it then," he snapped.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped.

"Maybe I will!" Draco shot back.

Ron looked between them both, finally settling on Harry. "Mate…"

"Then you can report to us how being gay is working out for you!" Harry stood at the table, glowering.

Draco withered under the glare at first, but then whirled around and stormed back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

--

"You can't have him." Harry sat in front of the fire, glaring at Snape. He'd wondered how long it would take before he of the hooked nose and annoying demeanor would show up to claim Draco and gloat about it. He was surprised Snape had waited even a day.

"I suppose Draco cannot speak for himself?" Snape stared at the three of them with derision. "I'm certain he will not appreciate your negotiating on his behalf with his mother hanging in the balance."

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm certain that Lord Voldemort wouldn't appreciate your handing us a Horcrux. Nor would he be thrilled that you're helping us." He felt Hermione and Ron leaning forward, ready to defend. They'd all agreed that they could finish Voldemort without Snape.

Flinching at the way Harry invoked Voldemort's name, Snape said, "You're a very imprudent boy. Don't martyr yourself for Malfoy. He'll stab you in the back the moment you become inconvenient." Snape perked a brow as he folded his arms, his words a fresh challenge.

Harry shifted and regretted it, as he watched the sickly grin spread over Snape's face. "That's my choice to make, isn't it?"

"Very well, be an irrational Gryffindor. It is not my concern. The boy can stay. I'll inform his mother of their death sentence."

"We're moving tomorrow. To Grimmauld Place. You may contact us there by Floo. With Dumbledore's i murder /i , the Fidelius has been lifted, but I'll have it warded."

Snape was taken aback. His eyes widened in spite of his obvious attempt to remain neutral. "Taking Draco from this house is guaranteeing his mother's demise."

"If Narcissa dies, then I'll be forced to explain to Voldemort how you've been helping us." Harry leaned closer to Snape, close enough to smell his rank breath. "So, I suggest you stop wasting time and figure out a way to explain it to Voldemort. We're leaving tomorrow." Harry shot a stream of water at the flames from his wand to end the call abruptly. He traded glances with Ron and Hermione, who had paled but returned his nod.

--

"I don't understand why you're doing all of this for him while being so cold, Harry," Hermione said over dinner. She'd taken Draco food, only to find the previous meals untouched and his trunk open and unpacked.

"I'm doing it because someone needs to." Harry stared at his food. He felt so miserable he could barely function, but he wasn't about to let Draco or his friends see this weakness. Soon day would pass completely into night and he'd have to face Draco again. He wasn't sure he could.

"I thought you liked him." Ron finished the curry and leaned in to kiss Hermione on the cheek in thanks for a good meal.

Harry shrugged. "I do-- did." He didn't want to explain. It was still too fresh and humiliating. How did you explain just how difficult relationships could be to friends who appeared to have everything in their relationship figured out?

"You know Harry; you can't just save someone halfway. You have to do it completely, or not at all. You shouldn't be doing it just because you like him, either. You should do it because you want to help him." Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry, but relented as Ron tugged at her shoulder.

"That's-- I am helping him. That's what I'm trying to do. Grimmauld Place will be better, you'll see." Even Harry didn't look sure of this, but he'd chosen this course of action and he was going to stick to it.

"Whatever, mate." Ron squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "We're going to bed."

Hermione appeared a bit annoyed with Harry, but stood to follow Ron's lead. It was obvious she wanted to say something, but Ron nudged her. "Goodnight, Harry."

He nodded. "Goodnight."

--

Harry sat at the table for a few minutes before clearing the dishes away. He hand washed them, trying to keep his mind blank. He'd been putting off facing Draco all day long, but it was getting late, and if they were to move the next day. He needed to get some rest. After putting the dishes back into the cupboards, he headed to the room.

Lying at the edge of the bed was Draco, curled around Lolly in a fetal position. There was only a single candle left lit for Harry. Draco's trunk was open and half-packed-- an obvious nod to Harry's decision; but not too agreeable. That was fine. They could finish the packing in the morning before they left. Harry changed into his pyjamas and made no move to rouse Draco to talk. In the morning, Harry found the door to the loo to be shut again.

He did not try it to see if it was locked.


	6. Chapter 6

"I don't know if you're being ignorant or purposefully obtuse, Potter," Snape bellowed from the flames of fireplace. After a half hour's discussion, Harry continued to insist that today was their moving day.

Draco sighed as he stood next to his trunk, dressed in Muggle clothing and examining his nails. He tugged at his t-shirt, making a face at the name of the Muggle band across it and the scruffy-looking figures that were in the band. "I spent six years at Hogwarts trying to figure that out. I don't think that answer his knowable in this lifetime."

"Hush, you," Harry retorted. Draco sat on his trunk and huffed in response. "Look, I said yesterday that we were going to Grimmauld Place and that's where we're going." Harry turned to Hermione and Ron for confirmation, but they were looking at each other. There was mutiny on the horizon.

Snape eyed Harry before answering. "It is not feasible for me to make arrangements that quickly, Potter. I did what I could, but Narcissa Malfoy is unwilling to budge from the Manor. Being where she is puts her at risk should Draco be considered a traitor."

Harry folded his arms. "Then we'll have to bring her with us."

Draco rolled his eyes and sniffed.

"As Mr Malfoy has so eloquently put it, Narcissa will not be moved if she does not wish to be," Snape said, giving Draco a sidelong glance.

Even the act of Snape looking at Draco set Harry's protective nerves on edge. Fighting the urge to slap that leer from Snape's face, Harry cleared his throat to garner his attention back. "Then you'll have to make her see that she should be moved."

Snape reached out to Draco, stroking his fingers through the blond hair. Draco batted his hand away and scooted further away on his trunk. Harry couldn't help but look smug. Not that he wanted Draco himself, of course. He'd vowed to protect Draco-- that was all there was to it.

Pulling his hand back, Snape turned his attention to Harry. "That will take time, time that your arbitrary sense of righteousness isn't allowing for. You are going to get more people killed, Mr Potter, or are you too arrogant to see that?"

Harry flinched at Snape's implication, but held Snape's glare. "You know why I want to move us."

Snape waved him off. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

Harry started to laugh, but Hermione cut him off. "Maybe we should stay here for a few more days while he sorts it out, Harry." She raised her brows at Harry's glower but looked past him at Draco, who appeared to be growing upset. "Even when we go to Grimmauld, we'll be in contact with Snape. It's really not accomplishing anything to--"

"It's my house! There's more room and there's-- it's mine!" snapped Harry.

"All right, you have a point, we could use more room," she said, "but Harry, just because we're in your house doesn't mean you'll have any more control."

"We can use a Fidelius charm and we won't be sitting ducks for Death Eaters," Harry pointed out.

"The Death Eaters won't be coming here unless something seems suspicious. If you keep throwing tantrums and taking my attention away from them, then they will have a reason to be suspicious. If you leave right now, Narcissa's blood will be on your hands, Potter. If your ego is worth yet another life, then by all means--" Snape folded arms over his chest to close his point.

Draco stood up and began to yank his trunk towards the door..

"Where are you going?" Harry asked. Ron took a spot in front of the door.

"Back to the room to unpack until you lack-wits sort out what you're going to do. I'm not leaving without knowing my mum's safe." Draco shoved Ron out of the way and lugged his trunk behind him.

Snape attempted to continue, "Nevermind him, I've found the location of another Horcrux."

Harry continued watching Draco pull the trunk down the hall. He didn't seem to be in a big hurry. Eavesdropping, he wagered. "Where did you find it?" he asked, focusing back on Snape.

"Well, I haven't found the item, just where it's likely to be. I believe that you saw the orphanage where the Dark Lord grew up?" Snape waited for Harry to nod before he glanced at Hermione and Ron. "We had believed it to be in Surrey, but that was a much larger orphanage than the one he grew up in. I've managed to procure the address to where it is in Sutton. Progress being what it is, I'm afraid the building has been built over."

"What is it now?" Harry asked. Snape handed him a slip of paper with the address scrawled out on it an all-too-familiar girlish script.

"Some shop or other. That is unimportant."

"Except that we'll need to figure out how to get into it," Ron said, peering over Harry's shoulder to read the address. Hermione shrugged at Harry..

"Mr Weasley is setting up a place for you three to stay in the area, so you will have accommodations should it take you as long as it did before." Snape smirked.

Harry wasn't amused with any of Snape's insinuations. "Us three? What about Malfoy?"

"He's staying here. You have work to do and moving him would arouse suspicion, as I've mentioned repeatedly." If Harry didn't know better, he'd swear that Snape's dull baritone had gone sing-song.

"I'm not leaving him here with you. You'll--" He glared at Hermione who had put her hand on his shoulder, but instead of her eyeing him as if to tell him to let it go, her eyes were narrowed at Snape.

Snape's brows rose. "Whatever you may think, I do not force myself on young men."

"Just coerce them so they don't think they have a choice," Hermione spat. Harry watched her angry face for a moment and then turned to Snape.

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "He must stay here, if he's found to be gone, then they will start a search after they've murdered his mother. Is that what you wish?"

"You're a Potions Master; make enough Polyjuice potion to keep Peter looking like Malfoy until we get back. Or just keep people from stopping by. You know, you speak as if the Death Eaters just drop in all the time, but we've been here a few weeks without so much as an owl from anyone but you and Malfoy's mum." Hermione crossed her arms and glared coldly. "I think you're bluffing."

Snape looked indignant and then he raised his brows to a spot just beyond them. Draco drawled in an icy tone, "I can take care of myself. Thank you all ever-so-much for your concern."

Harry whirled around and looked at him anxiously, "But…"

"I'll be fine. Go get your Horcrux." Draco leaned against the wall leading to the kitchen and closed his eyes as if looking at Harry was too painful.

"Very well, that's settled," Snape said. "You'll be leaving this afternoon."

--

The hotel room was quite posh and Harry worried briefly that the Weasleys might be paying for it. The Order itself did not have much money, which increased his suspicion. Seeing the delighted grin on Ron's face as Hermione swirled around in the room, Harry understood and felt guilty for thinking everything revolved around him. He sighed as they made weak excuses about being tired and headed off to "get some rest."

The sounds coming from the room strangely reminded him of Draco. He thought about how they'd left him-- standing in the doorway of the kitchen with his eyes closed as if everything was too much of a nightmare to even look at. They hadn't spoken directly to one another right up until Harry left, when Draco wished him good luck and told him not to worry. _Easier said than done._ He wondered if Snape was already starting to try to break Draco down or if he'd give it a couple of days.

_No, I'm not going to think about this. It's over. Whatever all of that was… I don't care now. Draco was just using me. He wants me to worry about him and I'm not falling for it._ Harry turned over in the oversized empty bed and felt disappointed not to see Draco squeezed at the edge. Determined that this wasn't going to bother him, Harry wriggled to the middle of the bed, spread his arms and legs out and stared at the ceiling till he fell asleep.

--

Harry double-checked the address on the piece of paper and stared at the alleyway. On one side stood a Virgin Megastore, on the other, an empty shell of a building for hire.

"Snape did say that progress had eliminated the original building," Hermione pointed out.

Sighing, Harry stared down the narrow alleyway and turned around to face them. "Right, then. Er, I guess we should start by going into the store? Maybe look around?"

Ron nodded. He couldn't take his eyes off of the shop filled with CDs and DVDs and a world of Muggle items that Harry was pretty sure that Ron had seen, but not in this quantity. "My dad would love this place."

Harry grinned and nodded, wondering if maybe Ron hadn't inherited a bit of Arthur's appetite for Muggle electronics. He followed Ron and Hermione into the shop, passing over vulgar displays of scantily clad women and men wearing plastic bags with elaborate braids. Ron appeared fascinated, Hermione amused. Harry couldn't help but think of all of the crazy things Draco would probably have to say about this place with its bright lights and gaudy red signage.

The employees appeared to be in their own worlds of registers, restocking and chatting one another up. He tried to catch the eye of them a few times, but none seemed interested in helping a customer, so he started to peruse the edges of the store, running his fingers along the walls, looking for fake panels. He'd gotten to the t-shirts in the back corner before he remembered that this place had been constructed well after Voldemort fell. His eyes landed on a black t-shirt with green and silver lettering that proudly proclaimed "Virgin."

It was too absurdly Slytherin for Harry not to buy. He reasoned that he was not buying Draco Malfoy a gift, so much as stumbling upon an excellent way to talk to one of the salespeople. He pulled the shirt from the rack and laid it over his arm and peered around one last time. The Spice Girls weren't likely to have the answers he was looking for. He headed for the check out.

"Thissit?" the young man with the spiky black hair and face studded with jewelry asked.

Harry nodded, ignoring the clerk's obvious eye roll at someone buying a branded t-shirt. Suddenly, he realized that he'd come to the desk without a plan at all about how to broach the subject of what he was looking for. He couldn't say exactly what he was doing, but there was no reason to hide that he was looking for an orphanage. "Actually," he said, after getting to total and pulling a wad of money from his pocket, "I came here for kind of sentimental reasons. My grandfather used to live at an orphanage around here. I guess I wanted to see it."

"That old place? Long gone. Burned down ages ago," the man said as he handed back change. He folded the shirt and then shoved it into a small, plastic bag.

"Burned down?" Harry was taken aback that someone not much older than he would know about something like that.

"Oh yeah, back in the seventies. Burned up with all the kids inside-- was terrible." The man leaned against the back corner after throwing the bag towards Harry.

"Were you there?" Harry rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the question. Of course he hadn't been there; this guy would not have even been alive back then. "Er... I mean, how do you know about that?" He took the bag and squeezed it down as much as he could and shoved it into his loose jean pocket. It didn't quite fit, even with the air compressed out of it and hung out awkwardly.

The man shrugged. "There's a sign 'bout it out in the alley. Take my smoke breaks out there sometimes. Creepy little thing with snakes and skulls all over it."

"In the alley?" Harry asked breathlessly, already starting towards the door.

"S'what I said." The surly employee shrugged and turned to talk to a young lady who had wandered up as Harry dragged Ron and Hermione outside.

--

"Hiding in plain sight," Ron marveled as Harry slid his fingers along the serpentine frame of the pewter plaque.

The snakes seemed to sense magical fingers, as they writhed under Harry's touch. He snapped his hand back and stared at it in horror. Fascinated, Hermione reached out to them, but they didn't react to her at all. They all looked at one another.

"Maybe this is another thing with Parseltongue?" Ron offered.

Harry shrugged and tried speaking to the sign, telling it to open up.

"Touch it while you speak to it," Hermione said.

While the snakes did twist under his touch, they made no move to open anything in spite of Harry's attempts at passwords such as "open up," "Tom Riddle," "Marvolo," "Gaunt" and a few desperate pleas of "incest is best" and "Mudblood." Harry shook his head, his hand still caressing the moving snakes. "I don't think that's the way."

Ron narrowed his eyes at the sign and reached out to it while Harry was touching it, but the small snakes turned back to stone when he touched it. It didn't appear to be a test for blood purity, not that Harry would've passed it. "In memoriam of Chastewick House for Boys," he read.

"Maybe it's reacting to the part of you that's Voldemort Harry," Hermione observed before she looked at the sign again, "Interesting that there were exactly seven boys left to burn at the time."

"If by 'interesting' you mean 'homicidal and creepy,' I'd agree with you," Harry said. Feeling something cold and metallic wrap around his thumb, he looked at it in alarm. The snake had grown and was sucking at his thumb, inching forward as it grew bigger. In a fraction of a second, it became big enough to swallow his hand and moved up his arm. He began to panic.

"No, Harry! Leave it, that's got to be it-- it's--" Hermione held Harry's arm up to it so he wouldn't pull away and it started to cover her hand as well.

The group fell silent as Ron added his hand. Harry looked gratefully at the other two as the cold metal soon surrounded them, compressing them in a stifling, inky coldness.

Harry felt like he was falling, sliding headlong into oblivion with nothing to clutch onto but his mates. All he could hear was the accelerating sound of their breathing. He realized, after a few terrifying seconds, that his throat was raw from screaming. He could see that Hermione was screaming too, but he couldn't hear her either.

Just when Harry thought for certain that he was going to go mad from the complete absence of gravity and perspective, everything was unbearably hot and bright red. Finally, he could hear his, Ron and Hermione's screaming along with a loud roar of-- something.

It took a moment to realize his eyes were still closed, and once they opened, he registered other wails of terror and pain. The three of them stood in the midst of a burning building. Harry assumed it to be the orphanage. The smoke caused him to choke and cough, so he dropped to the floor in the hope of attaining precious air.

When he hit the floor, he was shocked to find the air breathable, although it was still hot. He looked up to tell Ron and Hermione about this revelation of good floor air. They stood over him, looking down, sporting large bubbles around their heads. Hermione's wand was drawn.

Reaching up, he felt the protective bubble around his head and blushed. "Thanks, Hermione." The sound of his appreciation echoed in the bubble and he tried to remind himself not to speak too much.

Peering around the room, he realized they were in the same room in which Tom Riddle had been in when he saw him in the Pensieve. Or so he assumed. The wardrobe appeared to be the same. Shabbier, and painted in an orangey-red in a nod to 70s trends, but in the style of the wardrobe that he remembered Riddle kept his treasures in. He moved to open the wardrobe.

There was a, earsplitting scream that cut off abruptly, followed by another. Harry looked between Ron and Hermione.

Hermione was mouthing something. "Killing them."

Harry furrowed his brows. Killing who? Then it occurred to him. The kids in the orphanage! Of course! Voldemort was killing them. He started for the door.

Ron grabbed Harry's arm and shook his head. He pointed at the wardrobe and then to himself and Hermione, walking his fingers to indicate that they were going to go check it out. The sound of a baby wailing made Harry jump and his pulse increase, but Ron spun him around and shoved him at the bookcase. When Harry turned around, Ron and Hermione were gone.

The wardrobe appeared normal, or at least as normal as an antique painted orange would look, but when Harry approached it, it burst into flame. Harry brandished his wand, flicking it as he used a wordless spell to create water. The flames turned green upon contact with magic and faded to blue when he ended the spell.

_Well, there's something you don't see every day. _

Screwing up his courage, he reached through the flame, feeling his skin blister and boil. He shrieked inside of his bubble, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Yanking open the wardrobe, he saw the cup of Helga Hufflepuff shining in all its golden glory. Lunging forward he grabbed it and yanked his arm back, only to find that it wasn't scorched. That's when he realized that though he was standing in the midst of flames, he hadn't even broken out in a sweat; although now he was starting to. In fact, his jumper was starting to catch flame at his elbow.

A second later, Hermione and Ron ere came through the door looking quite bedraggled. Hermione's hair was singed and shortened in patches. In her arms she clutched a bundle that appeared to be an infant. "Get out of here," she mouthed.

Harry looked around the heating room wildly, trying to figure out how to escape. He didn't see an opening. The baby in Hermione's arms wailed and squirmed, reaching for the wardrobe. The three looked at one another. Ron tried to hex back the flames, but the result was the same as Harry's-- they turned green and then blue.

Both of the baby's arms were reaching towards the cabinet. There was something peculiar about the child, something beyond the preternatural understanding of what was going on, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it. "The way out is through," he said, ignoring the echoes in the bubble. Between the infant's screams and the roar of the increasing fire, no one heard him. So Harry jumped into the wardrobe, knowing the others would follow if it was possible.

He tumbled back into the alleyway sunburned, scorched and smoky. Immediately, he ended the incantation giving him the bubble head. Hermione, Ron and the baby followed. Harry ended their Bubblehead spells and stood holding Hufflepuff's cup.

Harry set the cup down on the ground, and after a quick look around, he used a _Diffendo_ hex to split the cup apart. Out if it came seven wisps of blue-grey smoke that fluttered into thin air. "The children…" Hermione said sadly.

Harry nodded and stared at the cup, something didn't seem right. "Hang on," said Harry, "if there were seven who died, but you saved one…"

He'd turned to ask Hermione about this when he saw a flash of scorpion tail. It lashed up and stung Hermione on the neck. She looked down at the bundle in her arms before she tipped backwards.

Though Harry had his wand out to hex the Manticore, Ron was the one to shout, "_Avada Kedavra_!" Harry raced to Hermione's fallen form, but Ron was already kicking the beast away. He grabbed her and held her tight against him. "St Mungo's," he advised Harry before he vanished with a loud crack, taking Hermione with him.

Harry stared at the small, dead Manticore's child-like face. He should've known there was a trick; a final, nasty surprise. Of course someone would've heard a child wailing and run to help. Voldemort never counted on friends.

He collected the remnants of the cup and sat them on its corpse. He wondered if he shouldn't take it all with him to St Mungos. You never knew what they might find useful. He grabbed the Virgin bag from his pocket, realizing when he found it pristine that he hadn't been so much as singed.

Bagging the creature and the cup, he stuffed the shirt itself into his pocket and Apparated to St Mungos.

--

He'd only been there a few hours, but it felt like weeks. Ron finally took a spot next to Harry, appearing haggard. "She'll pull through. They said it was good you brought the Manticore in. They have anti-venoms that they could use, but it's always better to derive it from the actual beast if you can. They say that makes the recovery faster."

"How long?" Harry sat, staring at the closed door to Hermione's room. He'd gone in to see her earlier, but he couldn't quite deal with seeing her immobilized like that, knowing it was his fault. All of those people around her bed in utter misery, including her parents and Ron? That was his fault, too.

"They say a week, maybe ten days if she got the full brunt of it. They said she's lucky to be alive after the venom, although since it was a baby, that helped." Ron rubbed his forehead and then looked at his hands in surprise. Harry figured he was just now discovering that he wasn't burnt.

"I guess we got the cup from his memory. Back in time? Or maybe like the Pensieve works? I'm sure Hermione could explain it better." Harry felt another sharp pang of guilt but tried to ignore it.

"That makes sense. In a weird way. Going back in time and memory, couldn't really affect someone physically in a memory. I guess that's why we're not burned up." Ron sat back against the chair and closed his eyes. "There's not much you can do here. You should probably go back and check on Malfoy."

"I should stay here with my friends," Harry looked determined, but he did feel worried about Draco.

Ron turned his head and half smiled. "We're your friends, Harry. We'll be your friends no matter what may come. You know we're with you. Besides," he said, turning his head back to stare at the ceiling, "there's nothing you can really do here."

Harry, touched by the words, felt his cheeks flush. He really did have the best friends anyone could have. "I can be moral support. Besides, everyone I love is here."

Exhaling, Ron smiled lazily. "Not everyone."

--

_I should've worked harder to get them to let me stay_, Harry thought as he popped a few blocks from the house on Spinner's End. He approached it cautiously, not sure what he'd be walking into, although part of him believed that to be a bit of paranoia on his part. That is, until he heard the wailing screams. He knew it wasn't Draco; while the cries sounded similar to Draco's lazy tenor, it didn't possess the same qualities as Draco's. However, he knew it was coming from that particular house. He ran the rest of the distance, stopped by something catching his arm. He felt a cold hand clamp over his face.

"Don't scream, Potter," the now familiar voice drawled.

Harry nodded his acquiescence. When the hand was removed, Harry whirled around and looked at Draco standing there in his maid's uniform. He frowned and tried to prevent his gaze from straying from Draco's face. "What's going on?"

"Pettigrew's being tortured." Draco folded his arms and then leaned back against the tree in an all -too familiar posture of defeat.

"Just Death Eater games or did he do something wrong?" Harry stepped closer and reached out to touch Draco's arm, pleasantly surprised when the other boy didn't recoil.

"He refused to go on a raid with them tomorrow night." Draco looked at Harry's hand on his arm, but said nothing. He just continued to stare.

Harry slid his fingers down Draco's arm to curl his fingers around one of Draco's hands. "Why would he do that?"

Draco turned his hand out and clasped his fingers around Harry's. "Because I don't think I can control him from far away with all of that dark magic floating around."

Nodding, but mostly thrilled that Draco was participating, he let himself smile. He brought his other hand up and wrapped them both around Draco's to warm it. "What reason did he give them?"

"That he's scared." Draco allowed Harry to take his hand and then looked up into his eyes.

"Is he?" Harry looked back at into his eyes.

"He's terrified."

Harry kept holding Draco's hand, but allowed the other arm to slide around his waist and pulled Draco closer. Draco rested his face against Harry's neck. "He doesn't have to be scared anymore. He's not alone."

Draco wrapped his arms tightly around Harry and let out a muffled sob. In return, Harry wrapped his other arm around Draco and patted his back. "Whatever may come."

Though it only seemed like seconds that they stood there in their embrace, the darkness that surrounded them told a different story. The front door to Snape's home opened, spilling warm lamplight into the darkness. The screaming had long since passed. Harry squinted at the tall robed man, a tuft of blond hair stuck out from under his hood. He recognized him from the tower battle.

"Oh Maaaaaalfoy," the man hollered.

Draco's arms tightened around Harry briefly and then he pulled back, looking into Harry's eyes. He gave him a wry smile and then caressed the side of Harry's face.

Catching his hand to press it against his cheek, Harry whispered, "Stay."

"I can't... my mum." Draco trailed his fingers down Harry's cheek to his neck.

It made Harry shiver, not just from the contact, but with the feeling of an inevitable and possibly permanent goodbye. "You can't go with them, they'll-- I'll protect you."

Draco dropped his hand and exhaled, "It's nice to think that you could, but you really can't."

"Of course I can." Harry grabbed Draco's arm before he could take step away.

"Don't be so arrogant. You can't solve everything. Let me go," Draco whispered back. He snatched his arm from Harry's grip and turned to leave.

"I AM NOT ARROGANT!" Harry shouted, whirling Draco around to face him.

The Death Eater on the porch drew his wand and peered shiftily in their direction. "Malfoy?"

Draco grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt and pulled into a last, desperate kiss before he shoved him away.

Startled, Harry tripped over his feet onto his back. The Death Eater on the porch and two behind him tore out of the house. Draco started to jog towards them; petticoat bouncing and flashing Harry the frilly knickers.

All Harry could think was, "No." Before he'd had time to make a real plan, his wand was out. "_Accio Draco_." He was surprised to find that it worked to summon people, but alarmed that the charm had no real sense of when to stop.

"What the hell, Potter?" shrieked Draco as he found himself astride Harry, his grey eyes distressed.

Harry had to act fast; the Death Eaters were nearly to them, already flinging hexes blindly in the gloom. He wrapped his arms around Draco and after a loud pop; they were lying in front of Grimmauld Place.

Draco looked around the Muggle street in horror. "You IDIOT!"


	7. Chapter 7

"I am not an idiot!" Harry shouted as he turned towards Grimmauld Place. Without Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm, it was sitting in plain view between the shabby Muggle houses; Harry still had yet to adjust to that. He tromped up the walkway and threw open the door, leaving it for Draco to follow him in.

"You just killed my mother, Potter. I really think 'idiot' is an understatement." Draco kicked at the troll leg umbrella stand and then glared at the dank surroundings. "This place is a dump."

Harry ignored the remark and paused to look at the covered portrait. He was surprised that Mrs Black wasn't screaming her head off. He hoped she'd died. _Can portraits die?_ He felt slightly guilty at the thought, but there was Draco, glaring at him. "I didn't kill her. Snape's been trying to move her; he probably has done it already."

"Snape? Your big hope for my mother is Snape?" Draco shook his head, looking incredulously at the ceiling. "Have you learned nothing? Snape's not in it for my mother, for you, or even for me. He does what he does for himself!"

"Is that the philosophy you had when you were mucking around with yourself with that feather duster?" Harry slapped his hand on the banister and spun himself around to head down to the kitchen.

Draco followed. "I know you don't think that's about romance. Even you aren't that dense."

"No, of course not. It's about who can protect you, isn't it? Or is it about the feather duster?" Harry crossed the kitchen to the cupboard and took out a butterbeer. Seeing the look on Draco's face, he pulled out another one and slammed them both on the table. They bubbled over when he opened them, but Harry didn't care. He took a generous swig.

"Oh yes, I was hoping the feather duster could protect me." Draco pulled his wand and spelled off the superfluous beer. Under his breath, he said, "You know very well why I did it. It was good enough for you that night."

"I didn't know you were using me that night." Harry took another gulp and tried to ignore the pained look on Draco's face.

"Is that what you really-- " Draco looked exasperated to swallowed down a good portion of the contents of the bottle. "Yeah, you caught me." He slumped at the table and stared at the drink, sliding his fingers over the bottle.

"I knew it," Harry hissed. His head dropped and he caught sight of the odd lump the t-shirt created in his clothing. The other gifts he had for Draco were still at Spinner's End. He felt like a sod for even buying them; sillier still for never having given them to him. Jerking the shirt out of his pocket, he threw it at Draco's head.

The shirt landed in his hair and when Draco pulled it off, fine strands of his hair stuck up. He smoothed his hair back and glared at him. "What is this?"

"A present." Harry finished his butterbeer and headed out the door. He was up the first couple of steps when he heard the shriek.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Draco shrieked.

Harry whirled around and stared at Draco's furious face. He looked at the table where the shirt was sitting, spread flat, the Virgin logo large and in green on a field of black. It wasn't even Gryffindor colors, so he had no idea what Draco's problem was. "I saw you wearing Muggle clothing," he said, too shocked to be angry yet.

"FIRST YOU KILL MY MOTHER OUT OF SOME SENSE OF PLAYING HERO AND THEN YOU INSULT MY VIRGINITY?" Draco lunged forward and grabbed the front of Harry's shirt.

Harry blinked and stared at Draco's fingers gathered in his shirt and then up at him, trying to imagine how he'd managed to insult Draco's virginity. "I didn't kill your mother, nor did I insult your virginity. Let go of me. Now."

"Didn't insult my virginity? What is that, then?" Draco pointed at the shirt and gave Harry a biting glare.

"A shirt... it..." Harry's eyes widened in horror as he realized that Draco wouldn't know that "Virgin" was a store's name, not an accusation. "No, you've got... that's... a brand."

"I know it's a brand, a brand of inexperience! I'm just picky. I haven't met anyone-- and I just-- HOW IS THIS YOUR BUSINESS?" Draco said, pointing his wand at the shirt.

Harry grabbed Draco's wand hand before he cast anything. "I don't know, why are you telling me about it?"

"Because you gave me this shirt to take the piss!" Draco twisted his wrist away and looked murderous.

It was hard for Harry not to laugh. "It's the name of a Muggle CD shop. That's where I went. It's not-- I wouldn't insult your virginity. I'm one, too."

Draco looked suspicious and eyed the shirt. "Are they all virgins at this _seedy_ shop?"

"Er, not to my knowledge. But then, I've never asked." Harry crossed his arms, but smirked as Draco pocketed his wand.

"Why would you name your company something like that if you weren't... one?" Draco began to neatly fold the shirt but showed no interest in wearing it.

"I really don't know. It's just the shop's name. I never thought much about it." After a pause, Harry asked, "Why would you be called Draco if you're not actually a dragon or a constellation?"

"Because I'm brave," Draco said with a lot less irony than was warranted. He pushed the shirt into his robe pocket and appeared defiant.

"Right then." Somehow, Harry managed to not laugh. "I suppose Muggles are strange."

"Illogical," Draco corrected. Then he looked around the room as if he'd lost something. "Potter, where are your annoying friends?"

Harry's body stiffened, but it wasn't fair, Draco didn't know. "St. Mungo's."

--

It took a lot longer to console Draco than Harry had anticipated. He was shocked that Draco had such an emotional reaction. Then again, he did seem to get on with Hermione.

Draco had fixed tea for the both of them and then sat in the drawing room. The tea seemed to soothe Draco's nerves enough to keep glancing at the Black family tree. A few times he looked as if he might say something, but eventually chose not to and stood up to be shown to his room.

Harry decided to take Sirius's room as he felt closer to him in there than he did elsewhere. Without thinking how alike in some ways Draco might be to him, Harry took Draco to Regulus's room, which was a bit smaller. Draco looked at him and frowned. "No Lolly."

Harry looked down and nodded. "I'm sorry, Draco."

Looking like he was going to say something again, Draco's expression turned defeated and he headed into his room, casting several cleansing charms as he went. Harry watched him look through the wardrobe and set some things out that appeared to meet with Draco's approval, and then decided to go back to the drawing room to find a book.

He'd settled down to read one with a fresh cup of tea when someone in long, silver robes tumbled out of the Floo. Only a lock of pale hair fell out of the hood of the petite person and under its arm was a brilliantly white stuffed toy.

Lolly.

Harry stood, ready to shout at Draco for his irresponsibility, thinking that he'd gone back for his unicorn, when the hood fell back and Harry was confronted with the haughty sneer of Narcissa Malfoy. He took a step back in his shock of realization.

"Mr Potter, where is my son?" She didn't look at him at first, but through him, as she scanned the room, likely looking for Draco.

"He is resting." Harry crossed his arms ready to tell her off if she thought she was going to make him go back.

"He'll need Lolly, then." She turned and started to the stairs.

Harry grabbed her arm and looked down at her. He was prepared to restrain her if he had to-- this was his house, after all. "He's not going back."

Narcissa snatched her hand back. "Of course he isn't."

"Then why are you here?" He watched the way her head tilted to the side, the same way Draco's did when he thought Harry was daft.

"To check on him and to let him know I'm all right." She held up Lolly in a wordless gesture that she wanted to bring her to him.

The sight of the stuffed toy and realizing that seeing Narcissa would ease Draco's mind, he backed off a little. "Are you staying here?" Harry let go of her arm.

"No, I'm going to St Mungo's for 'exhaustion.' Seems a reasonable excuse after my husband was sent to Azkaban and my son was kidnapped by the Chosen One." She sneered at Harry and then tossed her hair back so that her pointed chin would sit higher.

Harry was unimpressed with the gesture and crossed his arms. "Well, Draco's not making any deals with Snape to save you lot, so you can save your breath if that's why you're really here. I won't let him go."

Narcissa walked away again, shaking her head. She had almost made it to the stairs when she stopped and whirled around. "That is not what I want him to do. That is never what I wanted for him. I will do the unsavoury business myself if it comes to that. But you," she said jabbing her long, pale finger into his shoulder, "you will be responsible for him now. You wrenched him out of that situation and so now you have to take care of him. YOU will not take advantage of him either, am I clear?"

"Yes." Harry rubbed his shoulder feeling, disconcerted by her implication that he'd take advantage of anyone.

"This is your fault. Dragging him out to this wasteland," Narcissa said, tromping up the stairs. "You're reckless and stupid, just like your father."

"You don't know anything about my father!" Did she? Harry mentally berated himself for knowing so little about his parents questioned as he followed Narcissa to the landing and up to the one closed door on the floor.

"Oh, I don't, hmm? I bet I know a lot more about James than you do." Narcissa smirked at how that made Harry pale. "Maybe there's more of an attraction to blondes than there is to redheads in the Potter family line." She went to the door and was about to open it when Harry ran up and grabbed her hand to stop her.

"What does that mean?"

Narcissa turned and looked up at him, her lips curled in the corners of her sneer. "What do you _think_ it means?"

Harry stared down at her in shock. "You... and my father?"

She perked a brow, letting her expression turn to a minxy deviousness. Narcissa then turned the knob and pushed open the door.

Shocked beyond his ability speak, Harry watched Narcissa slither into Draco's room. He heard Draco's excited gasp of "Mum!" just before the door shut. Narcissa Malfoy had fancied his father. It was hard to reconcile that with everything that he'd known up until now, or so he thought at first. Then again, he realized that his father was a star Quidditch player and had been quite popular-- and a Pureblood. It made sense in a way that he didn't ever want to think about again.

Yet, as he wearily made his way to Sirius's old room, it was all he could think about. What if he'd been the son of Narcissa and James Potter? Would all of this have happened? Would he be more like Draco?

The thoughts swirled in his mind as he brushed his teeth, looking into his brilliant green eyes. Those came from his mother. There seemed to be a certain symmetry to his attraction to Draco now that he had this knowledge. He wondered how much his father fancied Narcissa back.

Knowing so little about his parents often proved frustrating in times like this. He couldn't argue against the revelation; he had no proof either way. While he understood that it didn't really matter who fancied whom, he felt as if some part of his fantasy parents had been lost. Of course they'd dated other people. He knew his mother couldn't stand his father in their fifth year.

Soon, his meandering thoughts systematically shut down as he began to spiral off into sleep. Pondering whether his father really did have a taste for blondes, he succumbed.

--

The next morning, Harry awoke to the zealous sweet smell of treacle that permeated the house emanating, he figured, from the kitchen. He didn't even bother to dress, expecting that it meant that Molly Weasley had arrived and skittered down the stairs. He paused at the uncovering of Mrs Black's portrait. The woman was standing frozen with a horrendous scowl on her face and an accusatory finger sticking out. Her eyes were wild, but she did not move. Rather, she was frozen like any Muggle picture. He rushed down to the kitchen.

Draco was surly, sitting up stock-straight with his hair slicked back and his robes prim and stiff. Narcissa appeared to be in the midst of some manner of lecture as two house-elves prepared more griddle cakes and sausage than Harry thought they could rightly eat in a week. "You will not let anyone know that you can cook, it's distasteful to do house-elf work, Draco," she said, flitting around the kitchen to observe the elves.

Harry fancied he could hear Draco's teeth grinding as he bit back his trademark nasty snark in honor of his mother. It was quite amusing. Harry was just about to take a seat when Narcissa tsked him. "No, no, young man. You have your shower and brush your teeth before you sit down to a meal."

"But I--"

Narcissa pointed at the stairs and snapped her fingers. Draco sneered.

Though he knew he wouldn't be able to touch the sumptuous-smelling food until he'd properly bathed, he had a question he was dying to ask. "How did you get Mrs Black... like that?"

Tossing back her hair, she let out a weary sigh. "Black family secret. We all have those sorts of portraits in our homes; the Black family is old and quite outspoken. If you don't know the proper charm, they'll be nattering on about everything all day every day."

"Sirius didn't know it." Up till now, Harry had all but forgotten that Narcissa was the one who helped get Sirius killed via information from Kreacher. He tried to rationalize that she had no choice-- it was easier to tolerate her presence that way.

"The Black family could be rather provincial when it came to teaching charms such as that. It was considered house maintenance, which would fall to the women. Wards fell to the men, I'm sure he had this place secured," she said, turning her back on him again to watch the elves serve Draco.

"Did you... like Sirius?" Harry didn't know why he asked, it was part of the unchangeable past. It didn't matter now.

"No, I didn't." She sat down in front of Draco who was looking between them with an expression of alarm.

Harry crossed his arms. "Why not?"

Narcissa was pensive, like she wanted to say something, but decided against it. "Because he didn't like me. Go have a shower. I'm leaving after breakfast. I don't want to waste my time talking with you about my cousin's possessiveness over your father. Shoo." With that, she spread the napkin over her lap and started to eat, brooking no further debate.

Turning, Harry headed back upstairs.

--

Narcissa's departure was anticlimactic. Harry expected tears or hysteria from Draco, but all he got was a wary relief and a quiet assurance that she would owl him once she was safe. She also promised to check on Hermione and Ron, but the tenor of her words didn't fill Harry with much hope that she'd remember. He was surprised when Draco's owl brought news that Hermione was awake, but not yet speaking.

"I think this occasion calls for butterbeer, don't you?" Draco flopped back on the chair in the drawing room and held out his hand as one of the house-elves Narcissa left brought it to him. He pitched his to Harry and held his hand out for another, which the second brought.

"She's not talking." Harry opened the butterbeer and sipped. He felt like a bad friend for not being there when she woke, but at least Draco seemed cheered.

Draco took a long slug. "She will," he said as he undid the stiff mandarin collar. At least now he didn't look like a vicar. "She'll be back and ticked off in no time." He took another long drink.

Harry nodded, exhaling a bit more of his tension as he tried to catch up with Draco's consumption. "You're right. It hasn't been long. They're brilliant healers there. Now you're mum's there and safe as well."

Brightening, Draco nodded. "Father's safe, she's safe, I'm mostly safe. Now I just have to deal with you."

The way Draco grinned wasn't quite as snide as it probably should have. Harry tilted his head and finished off the butterbeer and held his hand out for another. "Well, I guess life can't be perfect."

Shrugging, Draco finished his and demanded another. "What was that muck about Sirius downstairs? I didn't have them set for being close, but that sounded odd. Did she know your father?"

"It seems that way." Harry opened his fresh bottle and took a few gulps.

Draco didn't notice Harry's discomfort. "Mum told me that I should try and help you, back in school. I did, sometimes. Told you things you were too dense to catch on to. Sent that daft elf Dobby over to warn you, but did you heed it? Of course not." Draco rolled his eyes and drank again.

Harry's eyes widened. He remembered the twins saying that house-elves couldn't just leave the house on a whim. Draco had been sending him out to protect him? "I... er... I don't know how to respond to that."

Draco prattled on unfazed by Harry's bewilderment, "He almost killed you. To be honest, I figured it would work out for me either way." Draco took another drink and found the end of the bottle yet again. His head bobbed in the nod of the properly tipsy.

"Well, I almost killed you, too." Harry pointed out. Not wanting to focus on that unfortunate and bloody incident, he ironically babbled, "Bloody followed you around the bloody castle while you were being a bloody ponce." Finished with his bottle, he slammed it down on the stand beside him.

They were both brought another bottle each.

"You bloody loved following me around. You were checking my arse out. If not then, then you were definitely were doing it all over Spinner's End." Draco took another gulp but didn't look at all fussed about Harry looking at his arse.

Harry giggled and shook his head. "You were running around like a nancy in that tutu-- bending over in the frilly knickers for all to see."

"You loved it," Draco retorted in a slur. He blushed at his nerve as he looked into the bottle, measuring how much was left. Another was served before he asked for it.

"I'd never seen anything like it." Harry set his down. He was dizzy enough.

Draco finished his bottle and took the next one. "You're not going to again, either. Pettigrew's probably dead. I'll be lucky not to be dead by the end of this. Sod it, you'll be lucky not to be topped off eventually."

Harry didn't want to think about who may or may not die. He certainly didn't want to focus on his own death, so he changed the subject. "I vowed the other night you wouldn't have to wear that again."

"Even though you like it?" Draco stared at the bottle sitting between his legs, wetting the black brocade.

Looking away, Harry tried to be honest. "I don't like seeing you humiliated."

"That's new." Draco continued to stare at the bottle.

Harry took a moment and perked a brow. "So why did you wear it when you didn't have to?" He regretted it the moment he'd asked it; Draco's response could crush him.

The general gloom of Grimmauld place surrounded the boys, but Draco's paleness brought his features into a sparse relief. He looked at the fireplace and then brought the bottle to his lips. After a moment of intense concentration, he answered, "I liked the way you looked at me."

That was not the answer Harry was expecting. It was the answer he wanted; he just never dreamed he'd hear it. "You wanted protection," he tried to correct.

Draco waved his hand. "That was later and beside the point. I was scared and being dramatic."

"What did you want from me, then?"

Closing his eyes, Draco rested his head on the back of the couch and drank the last of the butterbeer and set it down. "For you to tell me it was going to be all right."

"You could've just asked," said Harry as he pushed the empties to the house-elves and crossed to sit next to Draco.

"That lacks drama." Draco leaned in to Harry's open arms and rested his forehead against his shoulder and sighed.

"I have enough drama, Draco." He slid his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes.

Draco tilted his head up and he looked blearily at Harry. Their faces were mere inches apart as they gazed into one another's eyes. First their noses brushed, nuzzling from their drunken lack of balance. Each choosing a side, their lips met. Harry could feel Draco's breath warming over his lips and cheek. They had just managed to part their lips and touch the pointed tips of their delicately warm tongues when the stone fireplace seemed to explode twice.

The abrupt noises caused Harry to leap from their embrace. He trained his wand on the wreckage of their open trunks. Their belongings were strewn liberally over the floor in large clumps of clothing and toiletries. This had the hallmark of a gift from Snape. Harry wondered if he opened them on the other side just to humiliate him by having Draco observe his frayed pants. The poetic justice of it seemed terribly unfair.

Whatever Harry's concerns about what Draco might think of his undergarments, they were quickly dismissed as Draco had yanked up a fuchsia gift bag from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Opening it, Draco pulled out the edible Dark Marks and the prank feather duster. Giving Harry a withering look, he asked, "Are these for me?"

"I thought... they were sort of funny... at the time. They seem less... amusing... now." Harry tried to grab them back, but Draco pulled them against his chest.

"Let me tally this up, Potter. First, you buy me a shirt that proclaims my virginity, then candies that mock my very real danger and to top it all off, you add a symbol of my humiliation," Draco face was expressionless, "And these are _your gifts to me_?"

Harry nodded weakly.

"You're a git." Draco rolled his eyes but popped a Dark Mark in his mouth and handed one to Harry. "You should've gotten Chocolate Frogs."

The Marks tasted like liquorice and Harry didn't care for them. While he was looking for somewhere to spit them out, he saw Draco pocket the feather duster in the reflection of the glass cases. Harry grinned.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a few strokes before midnight when the howling started. Harry shifted uneasily in his bed, recounting how Snape had cryptically warned them earlier in the day that this might happen. Fenrir and his cadre of werewolves planned to attack the house. Relying on the knowledge that Sirius's father had placed every kind of ward and protection on Grimmauld Place, Harry tried not to worry as he listened to the conflicting and terrible baying of preternatural beasts. The racket was so intense that Harry missed the creak of his door opening.

"Harry?" Draco's moonlit hair shone almost brighter than Lolly's as he shifted his weight from foot to foot in the dark frame of the door. As a fresh bout of unearthly screaming threatened to shake the house, his pointed face tilted upwards and towards the window, illuminating his fearful expression.

Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone look so scared, broken or beautiful in his life. He sat up, unable to tear his gaze from him. "Yes?"

The steps Draco took shadowed his face again, but Harry watched his progress across the room till he was standing next to the bed. Draco looked back at the window again. From this vantage, Harry could see the soft strands of pale hair trembling. Harry reached out to Lolly and tugged her gently as he scooted back. He pulled the covers back in an invitation that Draco took, kicking out of his slippers before kneeling on the bed.

A particularly piercing gale of shrieks made Draco jump. Harry reached for Draco, smoothing his hair down. He slid his thumb along his jaw line to turn Draco to face him. "It's all right, Draco. They can't get in."

Draco's expression hardened before it turned to fear as a throaty howl tore through the night. "Fenrir," he whispered.

Harry hadn't spent enough time with Fenrir to know what he sounded like. He wasn't sure he could even pick Remus's call out from the rest. It made him wonder how much time Draco had spent with Fenrir. He recalled that Draco had been none too happy with seeing the man on the tower that night. "Sirius said his father put every imaginable ward on this place. They won't get in."

Poking his wand up from his chest behind Lolly, Draco said, "I know a lot of hexes if they do get in. Ever since Snape said that Lupin was one..." His head jerked towards the window again as a fresh chorus of baying began.

"Then we'll definitely be fine." Noticing that Draco wasn't settling into bed, Harry dropped his hand and wiggled into the covers, the movement pulled his night shirt up, exposing some of his belly over his pyjama pants. He didn't realize how placating that sounded until he caught Draco's suspicious glare. "I don't know any hexes like that. I'm glad that you do."

Draco relented and slid his legs under the covers, still clutching his wand and Lolly to his chest. "I know a lot of dark magic, you know."

"I don't doubt that." Harry watched Draco's expression turn to a more familiar haughtiness and he bit back the urge to grin at his puffing himself up. "I'll rest easier knowing you're going to take care of me, then."

"Are you taking the mickey?" Draco looked guarded, but just then inhaled some of Lolly's mane and sputtered. He pushed her away and looked quite fussy before another loud shout broke him out of his irritation and back to fear.

Harry took Lolly from Draco and set her up higher on the pillows over their heads and reached out to him. "No, actually I was going to go to your room. The howling is rather creepy, isn't it?" He congratulated himself on accurately navigating Draco's defenses when he was allowed to embrace the other boy.

"Well, I don't want you to be scared," said Draco, tucking in closer to Harry.

"I feel much better now." Exhaling, Harry knew he really meant it, but not for the reasons that Draco believed. He'd thought about their kiss in the drawing room to the point of distraction. The brush of soft lips, the feel of Draco's hair tickling his cheek, the smell of him, almost musky, but light-- the faded smell of his soap and perspiration.

Draco's body leaned closer to Harry's pressing against him in an awkward jut of bony bodies that was somehow comforting against the noisy tenebrous night. There was something so thrilling about holding Draco this way, knowing that he was comforting him back, feeling his breath hot on his neck and his fingers curling around the back of his nightshirt. Harry felt needed. Sure, the Wizarding world needed him to defeat Voldemort, but this was so much more personal; being needed by one person, and not for his power, but for personal comfort.

He was just starting to really relax into the holding when he felt a spark, a shift in Draco's position that caused his hip to slide against his cock. It triggered a terrifyingly slow chain reaction in his body as he relived the closeness, the kissing, and the intimacy of being this close to someone else, someone he desired-- someone he'd seen in those fishnets and-- Harry shifted his hips back. In reaction, Draco's hands clutched his shirt and he wriggled closer again, driving his hip against Harry's now nearly full erection.

Draco froze.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry steeled himself for the conniption. His cheeks were flush with anticipatory humiliation as he waited. He berated himself for getting hard at such an odd time, with wolves literally at the door. What kind of a horny freak was he?

But Draco did not move. In fact, he was fairly certain that Draco's breath had stopped. Screwing up his Gryffindor courage, he opened one eye. Draco's face was pinched up in expectation of shouting. Harry cleared his throat.

The look on Draco's face when he opened his eyes was unreadable between fear and curiosity. Neither boy noticed that the howling was waning, their gazes were fixed on one another before Draco finally averted his eyes and leaned back against Harry.

Just about to breathe a sigh of relief, Harry found himself gasping as Draco's hip brushed against him again, this time more firmly. He tightened his arms around Draco, not sure what else to do. Again, Draco's body dragged against him and Harry tentatively pressed his own hips forward in weak response.

All motion stilled a moment and Harry experienced a sheer moment of terror thinking he was a complete pervert who had read Draco wrong. Then the pressure resumed, paused as he felt Draco shift, and then he felt something firmer than a hip slide next to his cock.

Harry wanted desperately to say something, to ask a question or to just stop and make sure that this was really happening, but aside from not having any words come to mind, he was scared that it would make Draco stop. The feeling of Draco's hands on his lower back as they both worked out a responsive rhythm between them made his pulse race and his eyelids flutter.

Just knowing that he'd elicited this same response from Draco was nearly enough to make him come, but the fact that they were doing this together, frotting in bed, against one another, made it hard to focus. His cock strained against his flannel pants, sticking at the tip from his precome. The soft whimpers and needy breaths coming from Draco drowned out everything else, and Harry forced his eyes open to peer at the blissfully bunched expression on Draco's face.

He felt Draco shuddering first, and he moved his hands to the other boy's hips to hold him steady as he thrust harder against him, the select pieces of material sliding between them. He could feel the warmth of Draco's come making his pyjamas soggy, and that final stimulation made him lose all focus, his body quivering with the final expulsion. His breathing came out in sharp, punctuated pants against the side of Draco's sated face.

Though he tried to look at Draco, his eyes were shut, and it was evident he didn't want to talk, but just to rest. Harry's stomach knotted with worry that Draco would deny it all in the morning, but his persistent staring did nothing to make Draco look back at him. As the hour grew late, Harry faded, hoping for the best when they awoke.

--

It was predictable that Draco wasn't in the bed the next morning. Harry found his belly cleaned of all evidence of their debauchery and the hall smelled heavily of Draco's soap. He tried to prepare himself for Draco to give him the brush off or hide from him all day. What he didn't expect was to bumble into the kitchen to find Draco eating breakfast and reading a scroll as if nothing had happened. He didn't look up when Harry entered, but said, "Mum visited Granger and says that she's fine, but that she's driving the staff of St. Mungo's nutters with all of her questions." Draco gave the note a wry grin as he finished reading. By the end of it, his smile was sincere and open.

"What else did she say?" Harry crossed to Draco, trying to peek as the note rolled back up and Draco pocketed it.

Draco smirked at him in a way that made Harry suddenly feel rather dirty. "That you're a nosy snitch who wants to read private communication."

Harry rubbed his hand through his hair and blushed, averting his eyes as he took a seat at the table, helping himself to some of the eggs. "You looked happy. I was curious."

"She's safe."

The answer was simple enough to ring true and Harry had little doubt that was what had caused Draco's happiness, although he'd have liked to believe he had something to do with it. "So it looks like I didn't bung it up so badly."

"You were lucky." It was the response Harry had anticipated, but not the voice. Harry followed Draco's gaze to the kitchen's fireplace where Snape was looking at them expectantly. "Malfoy, I hardly remembered what you looked like when not in a dress."

Draco looked down, the corner of his lip twitched as if he were holding back a scathing retort.

Harry stepped up, "Seems you were so caught up in his clothing, you forgot for a moment he was a boy."

"I wasn't the only one." Snape's reply came quickly. His awkward expression revealed that he regretted saying it. Draco shifted his feet, breaking the silence with the scraping of his shoe. "In any case, I received word that Miss Granger is on the road to recovery and Mrs Malfoy is safe although rather put out by the inconvenience."

Clearing his throat, Draco said, "Actually, one of the healers is one of her old dorm mates and that they've had a lovely time catching up."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Draco, who looked down. "In any case, I am no closer now to finding out what the final two Horcruxes are than I was before, mostly because I haven't had the time as I've been trying to cover up the mess you've made, Potter."

Harry gave an apathetic nod. He flopped onto the decrepit couch and placed both hands over his face. "Right, right. So very unwise, I get it. Come back when you have some news."

"I do not have to help you, Potter, I'm doing so out of my own..."

"Your own what? Your own fear?" Harry sat up and glared at the fireplace.

The fireplace glowed red, showing that Snape had left, but then it flashed green on his return. "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. I was going to ask if you needed food, but I sincerely hope you starve." That said; he was truly gone this time.

"His heart's going to break when he finds out Mrs Weasley's cooking for us," said Harry.

Draco didn't respond, just kept staring into the empty fire.

--

"I wonder if goading Snape is really the prudent option," Draco said over dinner. He'd complained about rewarming charms, but the first bite of the succulent, flaky crust of the Shepherd's pie quelled his protest.

"It probably isn't, but no one's really accused me of prudence before." Harry swished his pumpkin juice as if it were wine, mimicking Draco's movements. His table manners were lacking, Draco had complained, so Harry was attempting to do it right, even if he felt like a ponce doing it.

"Fair enough." Draco nodded to Harry's swishing in encouragement. "I suppose that taunting cold blooded killers is your full-time occupation."

"Something I was born to do," Harry muttered, bemoaning his fate. "Hang on; you don't believe there was a prior plan with Dumbledore?"

Draco gazed at the dark doorway with the stairs that led to the entry hall. After a few moments of thought, he shook his head. "I don't really know. Mum's afraid of him. She says that You-Know-Who is afraid of him as well." He nodded to Harry's incredulous expression. "It wouldn't surprise me at all to find that he was playing both sides to the middle to try and come out on top."

"Why would you say that?" Harry found that he was no longer hungry and shoved the half pie away from him.

"It's... more of a feeling than anything else-- that and his plans to be headmaster of Hogwarts someday. He said that to me a few times, you know? Now Dumbledore's out of the way. You-Know-Who would probably want to run it if what my father said about his obsession with the school was true. So, he'd have to go, too. It makes sense in a warped, Snape sort of way." Draco also pushed his plate aside and he looked around the kitchen before pulling his wand to clear away the dishes.

Harry never really trusted Snape, but he couldn't put his finger on why. "I wonder how good his information is going to be given what he wants and well..." Harry gestured to extend his speech and Draco stood up from the table.

"In spite of what he may or may not want, if he wants You-Know-Who out of the way, then his information should be good." He started to leave and Harry worried that he'd offended him.

Grabbing Draco's arm, Harry stood and stopped him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... bring up... or insult Snape..."

"I'm just tired, Harry. We should go to bed." Draco pulled his arm away and started up the kitchen stairs. Harry followed.

"But we're not done discussing this."

"We can talk about it in your room."

Harry was shocked. Certainly Draco couldn't mean what it sounded like. All day he'd acted as if nothing had happened the night before, but Draco's words made it sound as if he'd intended to stay the night in his room. Trying not to get his hopes up, he followed.

Draco veered off to his own room and Harry exhaled. It was a foolish thought, but he found that he had hoped for a different result. Sighing, he went to his trunk and pulled out his pyjamas. He was still changing into them when Draco entered the room as if he owned it. Lolly had been left on Harry's bed, so Harry wasn't surprised that Draco made a beeline for her.

Then Draco turned back the covers and slid in. "Insult Snape all you want," he said, rolling over onto his side as Harry scrambled to finish buttoning up his night shirt. "Ever since that... well, since Dumbledore died... he's acted as if he owns me." He paused and stared back at Harry who was still gobsmacked that Draco had just hopped into his bed.

Though they'd shared a bed before; now they didn't have to. He wondered if Draco intended for them to do what they'd done the night before, but his ramble about their prior conversation made it sound more friendly than erotic. Still, the notion of what had happened was enough to keep Harry distracted from the conversation. Had he told Draco anything about that night? That he'd been there? He couldn't recall telling Draco about the Horcrux that wasn't, the replacement locket with the cryptic note inside. "The problem is," he said as he crossed to the bed and got in on the other side, "we don't have other options. Although... well, supposedly there's some R. A. B. character that doesn't seem to care for Voldemort."

Draco flinched that the use of that name, but his brows went up. "Someone... inside?"

"I guess he is, yeah. He actually... well, it's a long story, but basically he got to one of the Horcruxes before I did and left a note for Voldemort." Harry turned on his side and Draco rolled over to face him.

"Someone else seeking out Horcruxes? But none of the others have come up with notes?" Draco scooted a little closer and Harry caressed Draco's arm.

"No, no other notes. To be honest, I'm thinking he's dead. I don't suppose you can cross Voldemort like that and get away with it."

That notion sparked something in Draco, as his eyes reflected something registering. "You know, I bet he is dead. But I think you know who he is."

"I don't. I don't know who half of those Death Eaters who attacked Hogwarts are." He didn't like Draco's self-satisfied sneer.

"Please, Potter. You mean you hung about with Sirius Black, live in his home, and you haven't sussed out who R. A. B. might be? Have you looked at the family tree?" Draco scoffed at Harry's puzzled look. "Regulus Black. Sirius's brother. It would make sense. He was a talented wizard by my mum's accounts. She never knew why he was murdered. Betrayal would definitely do it. "

"I didn't know his middle name?" Harry offered lamely.

Draco sat up and grabbed Harry's wrist. He tugged them to the drawing room where the Black family tree tapestry hung. He followed the family line until he found Regulus's name next to the scorch mark of what was presumably Sirius's name. Tapping it with an elegantly poised finger, Draco said, "Atilius. Regulus Atilius Black."

--

Evidently, solving the mystery of who R.A.B. was had been so tiring, that Draco did not repeat his performance the night before, a fact that Harry found quite disappointing. He went over the way they'd fallen asleep and concluded that he probably should have pretended to be afraid of something to give Draco a reason to cling to him. Tonight, there would be ghost stories before bedtime.

He polished off the last of the leftover Shepherd's pie and wandered to the drawing room where Draco was finishing up a letter, presumably to his mother. Taking a seat next to where Draco had set the fire, he thought about how he could've missed R.A.B. being the initials of someone related to his godfather. Granted, Draco was a clever boy. The planning that it took to get the Death Eaters into the school alone showed cleverness. But he wasn't exactly Hermione. Then again, he was rather aware of bloodlines and much savvier as to who was a Death Eater and who wasn't.

The fluttering of wings caught his attention and he watched the bird shrink into the sky, trailing the precious letter from Draco to his mum. "Do you think it's wise?"

Draco whirled around and looked at Harry after shutting the window. "Is what wise?"

"Sending so many letters?"

"I don't see you easing off on missives to your compatriots."

The defensiveness made Harry relent, conceding the point that they were both guilty of taking their fortification for granted. He exhaled, his mind scrambling for something to say. He went around in a full circle, thinking abstractly that there wasn't anything for dinner then to the letter and again to R.A.B. which led inevitably to the topic of why they hadn't messed around the night before. He eyed Draco, who had taken the spot across from him in front of the fire. It was right on the tip of his tongue to ask when there was a loud bang that signified the door flying open and the loud humming of Molly Weasley crashing in. "Hullooo... anyone home? Oh, good show on Mrs Black."

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed up from the armchair. "That's my cue. Let me know when she leaves."

Harry frowned at being left alone with Molly, but he supposed that Draco antagonizing her would be worse. He headed down to the kitchen where Molly was unpacking prepared food and setting it into the cupboard. It was all charmed to remain fresh as it was when she finished making it. She set out a plate of biscuits for Harry.

"I see young Mr Malfoy has decided against gracing us with his presence."

Grabbing for a biscuit, Harry frowned. "He was tired."

"I'm sure." She smiled to show that it didn't vex her in the least. "Hermione will be at St. Mungo's for just a few more days. Ron wonders if you'd like him to come back."

Again Ron was posing that question, which Harry recognized as needling about how things were going with Draco. He wondered if Molly was trying to ask that same question. Remembering the weird night with Ginny, he figured she had to know. "No, he should stay with Hermione. It's fine here." His eyes dropped to the biscuits, he didn't want to see the look on her face if she did understand that subtle code.

After a moment's silence, she spoke, "Harry, about the other night-- I've been meaning to speak to you about Ginny and all of..."

"I don't want to--"

Molly held up her hand for silence, and Harry stopped. "She's very young, Harry, as are you. I don't know what you have going on in your life but-- well, most boys your age don't really know what they want as far as that goes. But you're not most boys. I just want you to know that no matter how you feel about whom; you are always welcome at the Weasley table."

Harry looked at her, his eyes wide and his smile bright. He stood from the table and wrapped his arms around her, thrilled that he really did have family.

--

By the time he'd looked up from the chessboard, it was in the early hours of the morning. He'd been having so much fun listening to gossip about Order members from Molly, that he'd completely lost track of the time.

Seeing her off, he ran upstairs to find Draco already asleep clutching Lolly. He sighed. No fondling tonight either. Harry changed into his night clothes and spooned behind Draco. His arm wrapped around his waist, fingers slipped past the gap in the buttons to brush against his skin.

Draco moaned softly and wiggled against Harry. The brush of arse made Harry whimper in response-- and Draco did it again. Harry pressed his nose against Draco's hair, smelling the citrus tang of his conditioner and feeling the silken strands on his face. He was nervous, he didn't want to stop Draco's grinding against him, but he wanted to... touch him.

The soft moans and sighs only served to embolden Harry as he fished his hand out of Draco's shirt and started to tease along the drawstring band of his pyjama pants. Draco sucked in his stomach in response to the touches. Nervous muscles shied away from Harry's tender stroking as he stroked a tentative finger over a wet spot on the material and then down over the rigid shaft of Malfoy's silk-covered erection.

Draco pushed back harder against Harry, grinding more deeply and Harry's cock found a soft space between his cheeks. Harry pushed his other hand under Draco and gripped his hip to hold him better in place for frotting against. The arousal and the headiness were too much to keep Harry's curious hand from Draco's cock. He bypassed the waistband and it dug into the back of his wrist.

The feel of Draco's cock was almost velveteen, the softest skin that he'd ever touched, including his own. His cock seemed to bend a slightly different way than his own, but it filled his palm and his thumb brushed over the tip. He was fascinated by even just touching it; exploring this new part of Draco. He wished he could see it, but he knew as certain as anything that being greedy would stop this-- and he desperately didn't want that to happen.

He pressed soft kisses against the side of Draco's neck as their bodies expanded and contracted together. His hand wrapped around Draco and they increased their speed. Harry imagined what it would be like to actually be inside of Draco, to hear these moans coming from him like this, for them to actually be completely naked, touching one another, feeling their hot, wet skin slapping together. His face was starting to break out into a sweat and his body trembling. He could hear the loud gasps from Draco-- a sound he was still learning that signified his climax. After a beat, he felt warmth around his hand, and he used it to continue pulling more on Draco, loving the slick wetness between them as their clothes stuck, increasing the friction. He pushed his hips forward more insistently, feeling the last bits of hesitancy falling away before he gave way to it, his mouth open and Draco's name breathy from his lips as he came against his back.

In that position, they slept.

--

The next morning, Harry awoke to loud crashing and banging and flashes of magical light. He was up out of the bed with his wand at the ready in a flash and raced over to Draco's room. As Draco had slept in bed with him the night before, he didn't expect to find him in this room waving his wand. The air was heavy with humidity and the scent of Draco's body wash. His hair was still in wet tendrils around his head and he was holding a cup of tea, giving the impression that he'd woken up, bathed, started tea and then calmly proceeded to destroy his living quarters.

"What?" _Crash _"Are." _Bang_ "You doing?" _Tear_

Draco looked up in surprise and paused his wand. He finished his cup of tea and handed it to Harry. "Good morning. Fill that, would you?"

Before Harry could protest that he was not a house-elf, a house-elf swiped the cup from him and returned it filled with Earl Grey.

"Lovely, thanks." Draco took a sip and white light began shooting from his wand, upturning the dresser, which spilled out its contents. The light traced over each object systematically and dropped it. Harry was about to reassert that he had no idea what Draco was doing when an otherwise average bundle of socks exploded into pink goo and then splattered on the floor. Draco wrinkled his nose. "I hate when that happens."

"Yes, it's tragic," said Harry. "What are we talking about?"

"I'm looking for something."

Recasting the spell, they watched the rest of the items in the dresser come up for magical examination and pass. Or fail. Harry wasn't sure. "Fair enough. Did you lose something?"

Sighing as if he were very put upon, Draco flipped one hand to his waist and ceased his spell casting. "No, I didn't _lose_ anything. It's not like I came here with a lot, did I?" Harry shrugged at him; he didn't take inventory, so what did he know? "I sent a letter out to my mum this morning about Regulus, to see if she knew anything about him."

"Did you--"

"No, I didn't tell her anything." Draco waved his hand at Harry to ward off further interruption. "In any case, she mentioned that when he was younger she knew he had a journal. Since this is his room, I thought it might be here."

"Did you consider maybe going through the drawers by hand?" Harry looked at the wreckage-- overturned chairs, mattress askew, the wardrobe was open and tipped to its side. Even the curtains were off the window and crumpled in a heap across the box springs.

Draco looked at Harry pityingly. "No. Why would I do that? Besides, it's likely to have magic on it and I'd rather not end up a pile of goo or magic addled." At Harry's questioning look, he said, "Regulus was quite the wizard, evidently. If he didn't want a snoop like say, Sirius, going through his things, he'd probably put a load of protections on his possessions, right?"

Harry looked at the pile of goo and back to Draco. "But the socks?"

"Probably was something else he was trying to hide. I don't even want to speculate what a teenaged boy would want with bundled socks."

"Right." Harry's eyes widened and suddenly he wondered just how kinky a wizard could be getting with his footwear. Draco was right, he didn't want to speculate. "Hang on, do you mean a journal like Tom Riddle's?"

"Could be. I'm not sure. There's no guarantee it would really have any useable information in it or if he'd even have it here. Not even Mum knows what all happened other than Regulus had second thoughts and a few days later You-Know-Who had him killed." Draco looked around the room. His expression was bland given the carnage he was taking in. "If he still kept a journal, it might've been with him, or someplace he was staying. I don't know who would have that kind of information, though."

Harry nodded as he tried to think of who would know that kind of information. Sirius came to mind immediately, but being dead, he wouldn't be much help. Remus, maybe, if they could get a hold of him. He could owl Tonks, maybe she could find him. He was deep in thought when Draco said, "Oh, owls came for you from Granger and Weasley."

Taking them, Harry righted the bed and had a seat. He glanced at Ron's note, which had little on it other than to say that they'd be home in the next couple of days and that he shouldn't be doing anything he wouldn't do.

He was about to open Hermione's missive when Draco interrupted, "Oh, and Mum said that there was some sort of Black family heirloom-- a pair of mirrors where people could talk to one another-- that should be around here. She thought it would be nice if she and I could have those to talk to while she's at St. Mungo's."

The mirrors. Harry sighed, not sure what to say to Draco about that. Not only did he only have one-- he'd broken it in a fit of rage at the end of fifth year. Back when he was so into breaking things. Gearing up with a long intake of breath, he admitted, "I have one of them."

Draco looked at Harry, his brows raised and his hand rotating to encourage Harry to finish his thought. "I don't know where the other one is. I thought Sirius had it... but then... well, the veil made him vanish and, er... I haven't seen it around here, but we could look?"

"Have you tried speaking through the mirror to see if you can talk to Sirius from beyond?"

Hoping to avoid admitting his foolish destruction, he tried, "Draco, don't be... that's impossible."

"Actually, it's not impossible at all. If he had the mirror, there is always a chance. Bring it to me." Draco took a seat next to Harry and gave him nudge.

"Well, see... that's the thing." Harry stood and pushed his glasses up his nose before nervously ruffling his hair. "I did try and speak to him, but when he didn't respond... I er... got angry."

"Yes, of course you did. You're very," Draco cast his hand around as if he could catch the adjective from the air, "volatile."

Harry gave Draco a look. As far as he was concerned, he had a right to be volatile. His godfather had just been killed in front of him and he had found out he was going up against a foe and it had been destined and... well everyone knows that story. "I broke the mirror."

"...and do you still have it?"

"It should be in my trunk." He let Draco guide him from Regulus's room to Sirius's room. Draco didn't seem alarmed that the mirror was broken, which gave Harry some hope that it might be repaired. To what end, he wasn't sure. He'd called for Sirius already and he didn't answer. That was that.

Harry knelt before his trunk and opened it. He blushed at Draco's observation the untidy arrangement of his clothing, books and miscellany as the other boy knelt next to him. In the corner of the trunk was the frame of the mirror. A few shards still hung to the silvery edge. He looked up at Draco and shook his head as he handed the broken metal over.

The dull mirror backing looked ordinary to Harry, but as Draco slid his fingers along the side, he realized that towards the bottom was a tiny, carved capital G. He was about to make a remark about it when Draco tapped his wand to the jagged glass and said, "_Reparo_."

Somehow, Harry was let down that the mirror was fixed with such an elementary spell. Certainly something with such powerful magic should require something a bit more sophisticated to fix it. But there it was, Sirius's mirror in perfect condition, reflecting Harry's cynical countenance. He took the proffered mirror.

"Call for him." Draco folded his arms and nodded to assuage Harry's doubt.

This was ridiculous. Sirius wasn't going to be on the other end of this mirror, he'd tried it before. Even if Sirius did have the mirror, it was nothing more than fantasy to think that he could possibly be reached. That wasn't how death worked, that wasn't even how magic worked. Was it? Well, he didn't really know how the veil worked, in most of his experience; curtains weren't as lethal as they seemed to be in the Ministry of Magic.

"Draco, I tried this before and it didn't work. This is ridiculous."

Draco sighed and shook his head. "I have two questions, and then if you really can't be arsed to even try, then fine."

"All right."

"One, knowing you, you probably looked into the mirror, called for him and when you didn't get what you wanted in under half a minute, you threw it across to room in anger. Am I right?"

Harry averted his eyes. "Next question."

"Do you have a better idea?" Draco smirked.

It could be a monumental waste of time, although really, how long Draco expected them to sit and wait for an answer wasn't what was truly vexing Harry. He was filled with a myriad of emotions at the prospect of possibly talking to his godfather again. If it did work, how much time had he wasted by having that moment of arrogant disgust that had caused him to destroy the mirror? But bigger than that was the notion of speaking to Sirius again.

The issue of his godfather had been mourned and resolved in the summer before his sixth year. It was almost too painful to open that door again, to see him after all this time.

"Sirius?"


	9. Chapter 9

"It's not working." Staring at his own reflection, Harry started to feel foolish. "It's not going to work, I told you." He resisted the urge to throw the mirror again. Stupid Draco for getting his hopes up. Stupid him for allowing it. He knew better, didn't he?

Draco grabbed Harry's wrist to keep him from doing anything rash. "Would you just wait? It might take some time. You don't know where he is."

"Oh, and you do?"

Instead of replying, Draco just gave him a look. "I know better than to toss magical mirrors about."

"Right, you just destroy bedrooms."

"I was looking for something!" Draco's grip on Harry's wrist was getting painful and he started to pull away.

"Am I interrupting something?" The voice was muted and a bit tinny, but the drawl and cadence was unmistakably Sirius Black's.

Harry gasped and nearly dropped the mirror. Now he was grateful for Draco's steadying grip. "Sirius?"

"Hullo, Harry." Sirius's eyes widened in surprise and traveled to Draco, but then he looked back to Harry and flashed his cocksure grin. He looked younger, more akin to Snape's memory than the haggard look of an Azkaban refugee that Harry recalled. He wore a rather spiffing hat, and by the looks of his bare shoulders, nothing else.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of Sirius's nudity and he wondered if he'd caught him in the middle of something. He found himself unable to put together words that made sense both from shock and embarrassment. "Um, hullo. How is um... life?"

Draco let out an annoyed huff of air that sounded much like, "Pfft."

"Well, just a lot of _after_life, you know how it is." Sirius appeared nothing but amused. "Except that I suppose you don't."

Much like the veil at the Ministry of Magic, Harry could hear the faint whispering, just beyond Sirius's voice. Though Sirius was easy to see and well lit, everything beyond him was black with hazy edges. It was disturbing to ponder what might be in the beyond. As far as Harry knew, it could be a giant orgy-- and perhaps it was. As much as Sirius deserved such fun, Harry really didn't want to think about that right now. "Er, no, I suppose I wouldn't." After a brief pause, he added, "Nice hat."

"So is this just a friendly chat, then?" Sirius smirked and lowered the brim in a fanciful tip of his hat to Harry. If there was something untoward going on, he wasn't giving any hints of it. He glanced again at Draco, but didn't question.

"No... I had... um... a question." But what those questions were had vanished from Harry's mind. All he could do was stare dumbly at Sirius. He looked contented with the afterlife. The thought both pleased and hurt Harry. He didn't want Sirius to be suffering, although in the back of his mind, he'd had the thought that he might rescue Sirius-- bring him back to life to have the family he never had. That line of thought was obliterated by seeing Sirius so at home where he was, and Harry began to realize that they both had grown beyond the point of that fantasy.

"Let's hear it, then?" Sirius smiled at Harry, the expression on his face indulgent. Harry wondered if he could tell what he was thinking.

Draco moved close enough to Harry that his pale hair stroked his cheek. "The question was about your brother Regulus. We understand that he quit the Death Eaters before he was killed. We believe that his name was attached to a note to You-Know-Who pertaining to something--" Draco asked.

"Oh right, Regulus collected one of his Horcruxes. Yes, he told me about that," Sirius interrupted.

"It was him?" Harry was anxious to know more, but then, the sooner he finished this conversation, the less he'd see of his godfather. However, Draco's closeness and the smell of his shampoo and the radiant warmth of his body so close it was distracting.

"Bit of a falling out, obviously."

"Over what?" Draco was leaning in too much, obscuring Harry's view of Sirius, so Harry moved in closer. Their cheeks touched, and while Harry fully expected Draco to move away, he didn't.

"Well..." Sirius pulled his hat off and fluffed his hair. Once he'd set his hat down, it vanished from view. "He was asked to do something he didn't want to do."

"Go on." Draco snaked his arm around Harry, who leaned against him. He wondered why Draco was comforting him, but he wasn't going to ask. Any questioning might lead to Draco removing his arm.

"I was," Sirius snapped, glaring at Draco before speaking to Harry. "He was asked to kill me and take the mirror I used to communicate with you father. While Regulus didn't really have a problem stealing my mirror, he didn't want to murder his own brother. So he refused and was tortured till he agreed to do it."

Harry wrapped his arm around Draco. His breathing picked up between the revelation and Draco's nearness. "But... so... then..." There was a connection there and Harry knew that it was probably obvious, but the blood was flowing away from his head as he snuggled closer to Draco and wasn't pushed away.

Sirius looked between them and though the corner of his mouth twitched, he refrained from smirking or commenting. "Well, it was an odd request, wasn't it? Regulus didn't understand why I needed to die to procure the mirror, so he started doing some research. 'Digging around,' as it were. He found out about the Horcruxes and began learning about Tom Riddle's life, which led him to why Voldemort wanted the mirrors."

"So then he found out about the Horcruxes and went looking for one..." Draco prodded.

"But how did he get it?" Harry interrupted. "There had to be someone else with him. Did you help him?"

The familiar bark-like laugh sounded from the mirror. It shot straight to Harry's nerves, twisting his stomach, reminding him how much he'd really missed Sirius. He seemed far away even while he was present-- like a fading dream. "No, I'm afraid that was Kreacher. I'd say that explains why he's so off, but he was always... odd."

"So, the mirrors are... why did he want them?" Draco seemed determined to keep the conversation on track, which was lucky as Harry started to notice that Sirius's image was fading.

"While I didn't know this when Prongs and I started using them..." Draco gave Harry a questioning look at the use of the nickname, but didn't remark. Sirius continued, "They belonged to Godric Gryffindor."

"That's what the 'G' on the side means," Harry observed.

Sirius's wan face peered back at Harry, fractionally fainter than he had been before. "Yes. From what I heard later, Gryffindor's brother was a rather sickly squib cursed with a hex no one could undo, so Godric enchanted these mirrors so that he could talk to him while he was stuck in bed. He could show him the outside world, and the school he was building and such." He looked between Harry and Draco and paused. "Well, that's the story anyway."

Harry stared despondently at the vanishing image, quiet as he mulled over the story of the Gryffindor brothers. It was an interesting history, but he wasn't sure of the significance. "Hang on," he said, thinking aloud. He suppressed his urge to panic at losing Sirius again. He needed to use this time wisely. "When did my father give you the mirror back?"

"Harry... that..." It was obvious that it was a story Sirius didn't want to tell, but that he could also see that their time was limited. His grey eyes cast around the frame of the mirror, the cage between them. "When I spoke with Hagrid... that night... he was holding it. The house was destroyed, but you were undamaged and playing with it. I... took it with me. I wanted it to... well, to remember James when I did what I needed to do.

Sirius paused again to bite his lip and then went on, "You have to understand that at the time I thought... well, I thought I'd die fighting Voldemort after I'd gotten from Peter where he was. I didn't mean to steal..."

"It's all right, Sirius." Harry smiled softly at him. His first concern was to alleviate Sirius's obvious guilt. What he would've done with a mirror whose mate was missing all those years at the Dursley's, he had no idea. "I'd probably have broken it anyway. Or the Dursleys would've."

Sirius was little more than a ghostly figure in the mirror anymore. He was saying something; his face appeared anguished either in remorse or desperation of some sort. In the translucence of reflection, it was hard to say. Harry was looking at himself, squinting at what was left of Sirius and whispered, "You are forgiven." He slid his fingers over what was likely the last impression of his godfather that he was going to see in this lifetime.

Harry was startled to see a droplet of water land next to his thumb, silvery on the glass. He whipped his head up to look at Draco, who was staring impassively back at him. It wasn't Draco who was crying.

Draco's cool thumb brushed under the frame of Harry's glasses, pushing the wetness away. His other fingers curled on Harry's cheek, just before his ear. Harry leaned into him as he felt Draco's caring lips brush over the roughness of his scar. He shivered at the gentle touch and drew the mirror against his chest, clutching it between them.

--

Though he hadn't shed further tears, Draco held Harry in bed. Their bare bellies pressed together, although Draco still insisted that they wear their pyjama bottoms. Lolly observed from a chair, perched lovingly, but otherwise uninvolved. Harry watched the odd way she glowed in the tentative shadow light of nighttime, thinking how ethereal she looked, like Sirius in those last moments. Just past vision.

Draco stroked his hair and pressed occasional kisses soft like sighs to his cheek and lips. Harry pushed against him again, listening to the way their sweaty and come-coated skin sealed together, tacky from the time that had passed since they'd come together again.

Harry fought his distress with thoughts of what it was like to press against Draco in the crush of darkness, the way Draco's fingers searched his cock out curiously, teasing him through his flannels before slipping past the flannel. There wasn't a vein, nerve or wrinkle that Draco hadn't touched in his exploration. He'd even added lotion to the mix to smooth the sensation.

The back of Harry's pyjama pants had pulled what he thought might be a permanent burn into his back where the string stuck, but the overwhelming sensation of those precious supple hands thrumming over his cock pushed it from his mind. Even the notion of it was enough to awaken Harry's cock again. He pushed the semi-hardness against Draco's hipbone, whimpering at how hard he'd jabbed it.

"You're really milking this whole pity thing, aren't you?" Draco's hand glided from Harry's back to rest on his hip and he teased his thumb as far as it would reach over the material.

"Isn't that what you'd do?" asked Harry, surprised at his own cheek.

Draco appeared appreciative of the jab. "That's different."

"How?"

"I'm a Slytherin."

Harry rolled his eyes and nudged Draco's face, coy expression and all, up to trace the soft flesh with the tip of his tongue. Draco's mouth wouldn't open to that prompt, so he leaned in and sucked soft kisses to his bottom lip. To his consternation, Draco remained stubborn. Parting his lips again to swipe his tongue over Draco's mouth, he found it opened and the meltingly warmth melded with his.

After a few more nudges against his hip and Harry's agonized whine, Draco ducked his hand under the waistband and his index finger delicately traced over the head of Harry's cock, nudging back the foreskin. Harry let out a relieved sigh and reached for Draco's cock.

--

The next morning, Harry awoke to a dip and creak in the mattress. His eyes opened slowly, wanting to savour this moment of waking up with Draco, pleased that this time he had waited. When his eyes finally did open, he was surprised to find a blurry redhead before him. "Ron?"

"Try again," said Ginny.

Harry sat up immediately and grabbed the covers over him, hoping to hide the nudity and sticky mess. He was surprised to find that he was not only cleaned up, but wearing his sleep shirt. It hadn't been a wonderful dream, his thighs were sore from thrusting against that beautiful hand a few times last night. He surmised that Draco must've heard company and fixed him up. He quietly blessed him. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too!" Though her words were caustic, even to his unaided eye, he could see that she was grinning.

He reached past her for his glasses and shoved them on and gave her a dubious look. "Good morning, what are you doing here?"

"I didn't sneak up here to seduce you if that's what you think."

Harry gave an exasperated sigh and folded his arms over his chest.

"I came to apologize. Well, I came with Ron and Hermione. They're downstairs being grilled by Malfoy on the condition of his mum. But I just wanted to..."

"They're here?" Harry leapt out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown. He didn't care that he wasn't dressed; he hadn't seen them in what felt like months.

"Harry! I wanted to offer my apologies for how I behaved, would you just wait a moment?" She stood to bodily block him from the door.

"Do I have a choice?" He crossed his arms again, staring her down, willing her to move from the door.

"It was just kind of a shock. I just always thought we'd..."

"We're not."

Ginny nodded grimly and then thrust her hand into Harry's face. On her pinky was a pretty little gold ring with a tiny bud on it that blossomed in a complex, multi-petal golden bloom. "Neville gave me this."

Harry gave it a disinterested look. "Back to Neville now, are you? That's great."

"We didn't really date before; it was just the Yule Ball. Anyway, he's really sweet, just a bit shy. This is a dahlia. He says that in the Victorian language of flowers, it means 'forever thine.'"

"Forever hm?" he asked with sarcastic fervor. "That's quite a commitment."

"I really like Neville. He's brave and heroic in his own way, you know. Besides, I'm over you. I just thought you should know that." Her face was strained and her freckles stood out even more on her blanched skin.

"I'd like to see Ron and Hermione now."

"I'd like us to be friends again, Harry. I really am over you. This isn't a... I just..." she stared at her feet and switched her weight from foot to foot. "Neville... kind of grew on me, I guess. I really was trying to make you jealous with Seamus. I dated a few other people, but... Neville really treats me well and... Well, he is a little clingy... and he's started to buy me things like Seamus did."

Harry had been about to physically remove her from the door, but he was struck by her words and posture. He wasn't sure he could doubt her sincerity. "That's great for you. Both of you. Maybe you should just... maybe he just needs reassuring?"

"Maybe. I try to be reassuring, but... I don't know. I guess it started out so weird after I broke up with Seamus and... well, Dean was a bit put out. I guess it's a bit tense in the room now." She shoved her hands into her pockets. "Plus, I can't really afford to buy him things back so I've been doing... erm..."

Harry's eyes widened and he blushed brightly and looked away.

"Sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you."

"It's all right. I just... I don't know what to tell you. I'm not exactly experienced in what to buy to replace a blowj-- er," he teased, breaking the ice with a bit of a smile.

"Oh, I bet Malfoy would love to be lavished with things. Or blowj-'s."

"I bet he would." Harry missed the eager and impish grin on Ginny's face.

"So you _are_ with him!" she said, shaking her red mane back from her face.

"Not exactly _with him_, just... not... I don't really know. Nothing's..." he looked over at Draco's dressing gown with the Slytherin crest sitting in the chair, a silent indication that Draco was not staying in his own room.

Ginny smirked at the clothing. "Well, mum says I can't blame you for who you are. People like you are born that way."

"What?" Harry's brows furrowed at that wording.

"You can't help what you do, you know? You're born that way. That's what she said. So I don't blame you, Harry." Her magnanimous grin gave Harry the urge to slap her.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and tried to smile. He didn't want to have another row. He just wanted to be happy that his friends were back. Would Mrs Weasley really put it that way? He hoped that Ginny misunderstood or was being careless with her phrasing. "Breakfast smells great. I'm starving; let's get down there."

--

After Mrs Weasley and Ginny left, Harry and Ron settled in to play Wizard's chess while Hermione hunted down some yarn and needles that had been left over from the Order's stay to frantically begin making hats in the hopes of freeing the house-elf that Narcissa had brought. After watching Harry lose several times in a row, Draco insinuated himself into the game, going head-to-head against Ron.

The game ran through dinner, each boy spending several minutes considering each move. They took their meal at the table, staring one another down and quipping. The game's end found Ron triumphant and Draco sulking in his room with several hexes on the door barring Harry from comforting him.

Ron would later admit that it was the best game he'd ever had.

Harry spent the remainder of the night chit-chatting with his friends making vague references to how the relationship was developing with Draco. He was pleased to find his friends genuinely happy for him.

When he retired for the night, he was disappointed to find his bed empty save for Lolly occupying the space that Draco would have. There was no note, but Harry was touched that Draco left his precious toy in his stead. It gave him hope that this arrangement was temporary.

He washed up and slipped into bed, tucking Lolly under his chin. Inhaling, he could smell the citrusy remnants of Draco. He buried his nose in her silken mane and closed his eyes, hoping for sweet dreams.

--

After what had seemed like only a few minutes, but read a couple of hours by the low-lit clock on the nightstand, Harry awoke to someone in shadow pulling Lolly from his chest. He squinted in the gloom, making out only a vaguely silvery figure until Draco was close enough that he felt his breath on his cheek. His hands and feet were cold, but Harry ignored that as he resettled under the covers with Draco. Lolly was relegated to the nightstand again as Harry tilted his head back to feel the warm kisses on his throat and gasped at the cold hands working down the front of his pyjama pants.

--

Harry was disappointed, but not surprised, to wake up alone the next morning. This had been going on for days with no discussion or acknowledgement during the daylight hours and he was beginning to feel a bit used. At first it hadn't really mattered. He wanted Draco, Draco apparently wanted him, and he certainly couldn't complain about how good it felt. He wanted more, and was determined to talk about it.

However, Draco had taken to keeping himself in the company of Ron and Hermione like a shield to keep himself from being cornered. Each night he arrived in Harry's room, beginning immediately with the frantic kisses and touching that obliterated all questions from Harry's mind. He cursed his own weakness and furthermore Draco's ability to prey on it. If that is what he was doing.

The progression of days went merrily enough. He was hesitant to bring up the subject of Horcruxes, as Hermione had suffered horribly from gaining the last one, and having everyone around him felt settled like family. It wasn't something he wished to disrupt with something as unsettling as reality.

Each flare of the fireplace was met with a wincing realization that Snape could arrive with more word about what their next move would be and this peaceful, homey setting would be obliterated and he could possibly lose someone altogether. There were still two Horcruxes outstanding before he had to go into his final battle to destroy Voldemort-- a battle he was certain he'd win, but he wasn't so certain that he would come out of alive.

It was as if the very thought of the man had summoned him, but instead of his arriving through the Floo, Snape stalked into the drawing room, wand at the ready and pointed at Harry. "Isn't this a happy little gathering of sitting ducks?"

"What are you doing here?" Harry jumped up from the chess game he was playing with Ron, pulling his wand in spite of the futility of it.

"Is that the response you propose to use on the Dark Lord? I assure you that you wouldn't make it through your sentence before you, then Weasley were put to rest." Snape demonstrated by pointing his wand first and Harry, then to Ron and across the room at Hermione.

"Lower your wand, Professor," Harry snapped. "How did you get here?"

"By Floo." Snape smirked and pointed his wand one last time at Harry, holding it for affect before he slipped it into his pocket.

"So you ambushed us on purpose?" Harry likewise put his wand away, into his back pocket.

"No, actually the only link by Floo network is between where I'm staying and the kitchen Floo. No one was there. This is no excuse for your sloppy response, however," Snape lectured.

"And just where ARE you staying, Professor?" asked Draco from the doorway behind Snape. Harry was pleased to see that Draco had pressed his wand to Snape's throat from behind, like a blade ready to slit his throat.

Snape's expression went from surprised to lecherously proud. He pulled the wand from his throat and with a three quarter turn, faced Draco. "I could show you if you wish." Then Snape took a step back, his visage turned enough for Harry to see his horror. "What are you wearing, Malfoy?"

Though Harry hadn't really thought about it, Draco had been dressing like a Muggle lately. Harry had appreciated the relative tightness of the trousers that Draco had been donning, but hadn't thought about why he was wearing them until now. He blushed and grinned.

Draco lowered his head and stared at his shifting feet. "Clothes."

"What would your father say?" Snape began to close in on him again, but Hermione pushed herself between the Slytherins.

"I would think that Lucius Malfoy would be glad that his son was still alive at this point."

"He doesn't need a Mudblood to defend him, Miss Granger."

Harry jumped ahead of Ron to keep him from hexing Snape and joined the fray. "But it's all right for a half blood to defend you. But I suppose since you're not a pureblood yourself, you have little to say on that matter, do you?"

"You won't be defending anyone very long against the Dark Lord if you spend all of your time playing children's games. You should be training up. Finding the Horcruxes is only half of your mission, you still have to kill Him." Snape folded his arms and backed into the hall.

Draco looked between Snape and Harry, an unreadable expression on his face. "Not necessarily Potter, though. Once they're all found, anyone could kill him."

Harry was horrified at the smirking realization that overtook Snape's countenance as he passed out of being shocked by Draco's ignorance. He kept his glare steady, jaw set as he listened to Snape's hiss. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"Tell me what?" Draco's hair flared from his head as his head turned frantically back and forth.

Ron and Hermione appeared rooted to where they were, but they were looking at one another and then to Harry. He swallowed and let his head lag forward.

"Mr Malfoy, what Potter has failed to explain to you is that there is a prophecy." Harry could practically feel Snape's superior grin and Draco's growing anxiety.

"Yes, but no one knows what that prophecy says as it was dropped in the Ministry of Magic." Draco's closeness felt like defeat. He was so clueless and unprepared for this. Harry hated himself for not explaining it before now. He just hadn't wanted to think about it himself. Now he realized just how cruel that was.

"I heard it when it was given. Most of it, in any case. There is reason why the Dark Lord went to kill an infant. It is Potter who is prophesied to be the only one who can destroy him. It is Potter who will have to face him in the end. Stand or fall, the final battle will be between the Dark Lord--who has decades of learning-- dark magic and experience against a Hogwarts drop out."

Harry turned to Draco, who stood in ghastly comprehension. He looked appalled and determined. Draco tilted his head up, trying to remain haughty in spite of the glassy-wet look of his eyes. "Well, Harry's defeated him several times before with as many odds, if not more as it wasn't... there weren't prophecies about those and he had even less experience."

His relief was mitigated by Draco pulling his hand away when Harry reached for it. Draco stood with his arms crossed, radiating his displeasure, but at least he wasn't leaving with Snape. "Thank you," Harry whispered. Draco averted his eyes.

After clearing his throat, Snape drawled, "In any case, I was attempting to contact you to let you know I found out a bit about the final Horcrux."

Since Harry was keeping his back to Snape, Hermione piped up with, "What did you find out, Professor?" Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron flinch.

"I am no longer a Professor, Miss Granger." Harry wheeled around to glare at him; Snape eyed him down with his usual disinterested scowl. "In any case, it would seem that the final Horcrux is a mirror belonging to Godric Gryffindor. However, it would seem that something went wrong with--"

Draco broke in. "It was already broken. It can't be... unless it's the other one... but we couldn't possibly get it back, it's on the other side." Harry turned to look at Draco midway through his speech. His voice was high, near to cracking and the anxiety on his pointed face alarmed Harry.

"As I was saying... something went wrong with the spell, so it might not be--"

"But Potter was found with that mirror, when his parents... when..." Draco gave Snape an almost pleading look before staring at Harry and then up to his forehead.

Catching on finally to where Draco was going, Harry reached up to slide his finger over his scar. "He meant... to use the mirror... to kill me to make the... final..."

"It's highly unusual for a living person to carry a Horcrux," said Snape. "However, it would explain his fixation on killing you. Perhaps to reclaim that bit of soul so that he could place it elsewhere. He wouldn't want to make a new Horcrux without ending the old one. He is fixated on numbers."

"So... they'll have to... kill each other?" Hermione asked tightly. She and Ron had huddled together.

Harry exhaled as he felt Draco's hand in his. He gripped it tightly. Snape glared at the union and spoke, "It would seem so."

Though he probably should have seen this coming, the way that his life had been-- good moments struck down by impossible odds and nearly impassable intrusions-- he'd never truly thought it would come to such an abrupt end after such a short time. He looked at Draco's strained face and then, not knowing where else to seek comfort, he wrapped his arms around him, and was almost surprised to feel Draco respond by holding him back.

Hermione and Ron joined the two, wanting to commiserate with Harry. They tried to whisper encouragements to him, but he was too shocked to really hear them. Harry hid his face in Draco's neck, finding himself seeking comfort instead of providing it.

"Well, I shall go back and after you have made your arrangements, I'll alert you to the optimal time in which to strike." Harry heard Snape's footsteps tap on the hardwood floor, and the whoosh of the Floo that signaled his exit.


	10. Chapter 10

After all of the tears, the 'I'm sorrys' and the 'it's not your faults' had been properly distributed along with the liberal use of hugs and lingering looks, the two couples were left standing awkwardly looking at one another. The idea on everyone's mind was that this would be the end and that Harry Potter would be no more and that perhaps they should not sleep again.

"I'm going to bed." Draco turned and headed to their room. After another long hug and several more cheek kisses, Harry followed. He was surprised that Draco was still there, that he hadn't decided to go with a safer bet. But he meant what he said, evidently, that he believed in Harry and that was as good an endorsement as Harry thought he'd have outside of the return of Dumbledore.

Harry changed into his night clothes and slipped into bed next to Draco. He'd just closed his eyes when he felt the bed shift and looked up to see Draco straddling him, the other boy's weight on his thighs. He had a curious look in his eyes, almost predatory. Draco leered at him from head down to his tented pyjama pants.

This was a definite break in pattern from their current flirtations, but Harry was too scared to ask what prompted it. He just watched Draco. "I want you to put your mouth on it."

The room was dark so it was hard for Harry to tell if Draco was blushing as deeply as he was, although he did think he caught a crimson hue to the shadow. This may well have been his fantasy. "What do you mean... it?"

Draco scooted back a little and looked both ways as if someone might spy on them. Seeing Lolly on the nightstand facing them, he turned her around. Harry rolled his eyes. Draco unbuttoned his silk silver nightshirt and worked out of it. Harry watched in utter amazement as the skin was revealed to him.

After going for so long without seeing Draco's prick since the shower, having it live and in arm's reach was shocking. Harry slid his fingers over the front of Draco's chest, circling his nipples as Draco unfastened the string on his pyjama pants. He moved Harry's hands to his own buttons and comprehending the meaning, started to unbutton himself.

"You want me to put my mouth on your penis?" asked Harry to break the silence. Draco nodded and rolled over, completely starkers, onto his side and then on his back. Harry lit a candle and used his wand to light a couple more. He wanted to see Draco's ivory skin and the swell of his dark pink prick pressing sticky against his belly.

Harry wasn't sure about this business of putting his mouth on it. He wanted to ask if it was clean. Of course it was clean to an extent, because Malfoy was quite fussy hygienically, but was it clean enough to really put your mouth on, considering what came out of there... "Take a shower first."

"A shower?"

"I know you're familiar with the concept. I've seen you take five in one day."

"Not very romantic, Potter," Draco pointed out as he rolled out of bed and turned on the spigots. Harry followed, watching how Draco bent over, the flash of pink between his cheeks. That was, as far as he knew, where he was supposed to want to put it. If he got himself in there, he wouldn't be a virgin anymore. He wasn't entirely sure how the hand jobs counted; Ron didn't seem to really want to go over that with him. Or rather, he just didn't want to talk about it with Ron. Because if he asked Ron and Ron knew, that meant that Ron had probably had this conversation with someone over what he'd done with Hermione. That was like knowing your parents had sex. No. He'd figure it out on his own.

Draco returned wrapped in a towel and shivering, but he gamely crawled back under the covers and laid down spread eagle on the bed. "Why this, Draco? Why now?"

"Well, you're going to die soon, so might as well have a bit of fun before you go, right?"

That made sense, in a Draco sort of way. Harry was a bit disturbed with the notion that he might be learning to understand Draco's thought processes. No matter how obtuse and brutal they might be, they made a certain kind of sense... and yet..."Shouldn't I be the one with your mouth on it if I'm the one who is going to theoretically... you know... pack it in?"

"You're the one who's gay so you're the one who wants to put his mouth on it and besides," Draco said, fielding objections before they were given, "I'm the one who bothered to get clean. So, it will be my cock that's getting sucked." Matter settled; Draco went limp against the bed.

Still unsure about doing this, Harry crawled over and kissed over Draco's stomach a few awkward times as he tried to gather the courage. Draco pushed the top of his head down facing him nose to... cock. The point was clear. Draco wanted what he wanted and that was that. At least it was clean.

Harry stuck out his tongue and slid it nervously up his shaft. Draco groaned dramatically. If it was an act, it was a very good one, as Harry very much wanted to hear him make that noise again. So he stroked his tongue up Draco's prick, enjoying the soft whimpers it elicited. He continued to go on this way, lapping sometimes, pointing his tongue other times, trying to decide which way seemed to turn Draco on the most.

"Suck it, Harry."

"It won't fit." He picked up the base of Draco's prick to eye the tip. It was certainly narrow enough to go into his mouth but he wasn't sure about the length. The tip oozed a clear fluid and though Harry had seen this before on his own prick, he'd never tasted it. He flicked his tongue out and then made a face at its mellow-bitter taste. Not a brilliant taste, but tolerable. The test had caused Draco to flail against the sheets in a way that made Harry feel strangely powerful. After giving Draco a smirk that he was sure he couldn't ignore, Harry pulled the tip of his cock into his mouth.

He suckled it, tasting the wrinkled skin as his tongue prodded back the foreskin. Harry's fingers worked the exposed area at the base. Malfoy's cock was fascinating. It bent the same way Harry's did, only slightly less. It was quite straight, really. It was a bit longer, but Harry observed that his was much thicker, but they both felt of that velvety soft skin that moved so teasingly over the hardness beneath it.

Draco was whining and whimpering against the bed. His head thrashed back and forth and he grabbed the dark sheets to half pull over him. His hair was askew and his back arching as he begged for more. Harry tried to accommodate, pulling as much of Draco's cock as he could get into his mouth, which turned out to be a bit more than half. He opened his eyes to look up at Draco's tortured face. "More... more... oh Harry... I need... keep... don't stop, Harry."

Assuming he meant more of his cock into his mouth, Harry opened his mouth wider and tried to pull him deeper, but oddly, as he looked down at Draco's shaft and the curly bits of hair around his balls, he thought of that feather duster and where it went. He brought his finger to his mouth, deciding to test something. Draco wanted more, and there was only so much more cock that was going to get into Harry's mouth before he gagged. But this... could be... more... and if it coincidentally meant that perhaps he'd lose his virginity tonight, then... that was good for everyone. But mostly him. If he was going to die, then he should at least get that much, right?

He quietly thanked himself for having had Draco take a shower before this as this was going to be very, very dirty. He bobbed his head back on Draco's cock, tried to figure out what he was doing and then slowly started to worm his finger inside of Draco.

Draco stopped everything as Harry's finger invaded him. The inner muscles fought him a little, but when they did, Harry stopped. He continued to softly suck at Draco's waning erection. He pushed his finger further in, feeling the odd, humid dryness. He wished he'd had a better lubricant than spittle as it felt hot and compressed inside-- and oddly tubular. He pulled his finger back out and began to bob his head again. Draco relaxed and soon made cooing and begging noises again.

Pale hands splayed out over the sheets, he grabbed them hard and garbled something about coming that Harry didn't quite understand. Did he hear someone coming down the hall? Should they stop? He turned his head, letting the cock slide out of his mouth in time for Draco's release that pumped over his cheek and then onto his glasses in a warm, gloppy gush. Harry was mortified, but Draco appeared to be dealing with his own embarrassment as he'd pulled the sheets tightly over his head and gave no indication of coming out of hiding any time soon.

That left Harry to charm the sheets clean. He headed to the bathroom to wash up. Staring into the mirror, he thought about his life, however short it was going to be and how it all led up to the strange climax of sucking off Draco Malfoy and having to clean his come from his face. Hopefully he'd have a few more days to train up and actually lose his virginity, as he didn't think that was going to happen tonight.

By the time he'd finished brushing his teeth and making sure that there was no trace of ejaculate left on his glasses, Draco appeared to be asleep. All of the excitement of watching Draco get off-- in spite of the surprise ending-- had left Harry rather hard. He could go back into the bathroom to take care of it, but he decided he was more comfortable here. Plus here he could at least look at Draco and feel the warmth of him next to him.

Closing his eyes, he slipped his hand under his waistband and traced his fingers along his cock. He moved slowly, warming up to his own touches as he increased the pressure and began to grip it in full. He was so enthralled by his fantasy of Draco mouthing his prick, that he hadn't noticed that Draco had slipped under the covers and by the look of the large lump next to his hips, was getting quite an eyeful. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was for a little bit, but I kept having these nightmares that you died without someone putting their mouth on it." Harry felt Draco's breath on his cock. "Besides, you moan too loudly for me to sleep through."

Harry pushed the sheets back to watch. He observed the way Draco fisted the base of his cock and licked experimentally just the way Harry did. Almost as if it was an ice cream cone, only... holy fuck it felt so good. He could barely believe that the same skin he'd just been touching could feel so much better. He was a definite fan of this soft wetness.

He loved the way that Draco's mouth had to stretch to get around his cock, that Draco was doing this at all. Harry sat up on his elbows to watch Draco struggling to take him down and Harry felt badly for him. He thought about giving advice but as he'd just done it the first time a moment ago, he didn't really have any brilliant pearls of wisdom aside from, "There... just there..."

Draco was flicking his tongue along the head, dipping the tip into the slit. He was definitely more imaginative; Harry had to give him that. But then Draco opened his mouth and took Harry all the way into him, or at least most of the way. His fingers remained at the base of Harry's prick and he started to bob his head in rhythm. Harry tried to move with that rhythm, but after a few longer strokes, he felt Draco start to gag and was forced to stop.

After that, Harry found his hipbones pinned to the bed by Draco's hands as he rocked back and forth on his knees, swiveling his neck for variety as he sucked Harry hard. Draco's cheeks hollowed out and blushed as he moved. Harry spread his legs, expecting to feel a finger there, fair was fair after all. The finger never came, or at least it was obliterated but the sudden dizzying vibrating feeling of his oncoming orgasm. His eyes rolled back and he fought to buck more into Draco's mouth, but what he got instead was Draco slowing down, but giving more determined pulls. The result was the same. Harry's balls were tightening and he let out a blind yelp that he was coming. Now he understood what Draco was saying.

He was both pleased and disappointed that Draco moved back and pushed a tissue over the head of his expelling prick. Draco's lips were bright red and he was flushed and glistening and they'd just... sucked each other off and there was no way that they couldn't talk about things now. This was getting serious.

Draco tossed the tissues into the bin by the bed and then got up to pull his pyjamas back on.

"Draco."

"Harry."

"What we... we just... you know... we should... you know?"

Draco smirked and slipped back into bed. "Should we? You're going to have to die; I'm not sure what it matters."

Suddenly Harry was hurt. Maybe even more hurt than he was that he was going to die. "So just snog till we die?"

"Technically it's only you that has to die, and really with your luck, you probably won't die. But just in case you do, would you rather whinge about it till someone puts you out of your misery or would you like to do more of..." Draco gestured to Harry's waist. "That?"

"Point, but... do you even like me?"

Draco rolled his eyes and gave Harry a withering look. "You really are stupid, Potter." With that, he rolled over and refused to speak.

--

Harry awoke to pale hair in his face. He inhaled slowly; enjoying the citrus smell of Draco, thrilled that finally he'd stayed in bed and didn't jump up to shower immediately or find some other random thing to do. He pulled him closer, burying his face in Draco's hair and sliding his hand across his furry chest. Furry.

Pulling back, Harry frowned at Lolly. Her placid smile remained the same, even as Harry muttered, "Bastard."

--

Breakfast was a morose affair. Ron and Hermione kept exchanging meaningful glances and stopping mid sentence as if there was no point in talking about the future with a dead man walking. Draco said nothing, but glared almost constantly at Harry's forehead. All in all, Harry was starting to wish that Voldemort would get on with it if this was how it was going to be.

He was pondering whether death would hurt or not and chewing his bacon thoughtfully when Draco excused himself from the table to write a letter to his mum. Harry couldn't help but feel like he'd betrayed Draco in some way, although when he met Draco's eyes, for the nanosecond before Draco looked away, he looked nothing other than sympathetic. Somehow, that hurt more than the thought that Draco might be angry.

"We'll find a way past this, Harry. You know we'll figure something out," said Hermione. She touched Harry's hand and he looked down at it and then to her eyes. She didn't waver or look away. He could see the sincerity, but it seemed entirely too fanciful. He remembered what Dumbledore said about how the prophecy was optional, that he and Voldemort could just decide not to fight and go their separate ways, but he knew that there was no way that they could call a truce, especially not now that he'd destroyed all but the final two Horcruxes.

Harry dropped eye contact with Hermione. "I know you'll try. I just... there's some point when luck runs out, isn't there?"

"Harry, Dumbledore said to keep us with you and there will be some way out of this. You know that. Deep down you must know that." In spite of Hermione's words, Harry could feel a frantic need to believe what she said that led him to believe she didn't. Sneaking his curled index finger under his glasses, he rubbed his eye and nodded.

"We'll sort something out, mate." Ron sounded less definite, but he'd stood up to pat Harry's back and Harry turned to hug him tightly. Hermione hopped up to join in, hugging him from behind. Even if this was the end, he knew that he had family here, at least he was loved. This was what he was protecting, and if he had to die to do it, then so be it. This had to go on, this would endure no matter what happened to him-- it was bigger than him. Maybe that's what Dumbledore wanted him to have, to understand before he passed on.

He just wished Draco were part of it.

--

"Look Malfoy, I understand you don't want to talk about it, but it's really silly to starve yourself just to avoid me." Harry pounded on the door again. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Draco since breakfast. Balancing the dinner plate of curry in his hand he knocked again and then tried the door. It wasn't hexed shut, so it opened wide revealing... nothing. Draco wasn't in this room either. He went back to his room and Draco was not there either. Running up to the attic, he started to get the sinking feeling that Draco was no longer in Grimmauld place.

After dashing room to room, Harry ran down to the kitchen, flushed and breathless. "Malfoy's gone."

Ron set his utensils down. "What?"

Repeating it was proving too much for Harry. He set the plate down as he felt the lonely prickle of abandonment irritate his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to steel himself against the overwhelming emotions that threatened to purge his curry. "I can't find him."

"Did you check the attic?" asked Hermione.

"Yes."

"And the drawing room?"

"Of course."

"What about the cellars?"

"HERMIONE, I LOOKED EVERYWHERE!" He saw the stricken look on her face and he knew he should recant, but his frustration overwhelmed his good sense and all he wanted to do was to lash out at someone, anyone. Too bad Snape wasn't here.

Then he caught onto the idea. He eyed the fireplace with malicious intent. Of course, where else would Draco have gone? He was upset, confused and probably scared-- although he didn't seem that frightened last night with a cock stuffed in his mouth. Harry's expression turned viperous at the thought. Perhaps if Draco was going to play kept boy for Snape, the greasy old git should know just what kind of boy he was keeping.

Ron and Hermione had gotten up and were moving towards Harry, but he brushed past them to kneel before the fireplace. He had no idea if this would work, it was probably a harebrained gambit at best, but at this point, Harry didn't care. Grabbing a fistful of Floo powder, he threw it into the fireplace and announced, "To Snape."

In a dizzying whoosh, Harry was carried to a small room lit all in candles. There was little to no personal touches in the room aside from the darkness of the huge mahogany bed covered in rich furs and black velvet, the stone fireplace he'd tumbled out of and a large cauldron that was wedged in the corner of two large bookshelves laden with small, unlabeled vials of unidentifiable ingredients. He cast a quick glance at the room, but it was also sans Draco. Then again, Snape was nowhere to be seen either.

He cast about for clues, gathering his courage to go out through the large, walnut door when it opened and Snape swished through. Upon seeing Harry, he quickly shut the door and flourished his wand to seal the room shut and quiet. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's Malfoy?"

Wand still at the ready, Snape considered the question and perked a brow. Though his face remained placid, his body tensed. "He should be with you."

"You don't know where he is?" The idea that he wasn't with Snape hadn't occurred to him. Recalling the wolves at the door on that first night that Draco came to him, he was filled with much more than jealousy.

"Go back to your house and wait. If he's here, I'll find him."

Suddenly Harry really didn't want to leave. Snape couldn't be Draco's hero, if there was saving to be done, it should be Harry doing it. "No. I'm not leaving. I'll go with you, if you like, but I'm not going to leave him to you to rescue."

"You have no idea where you are, Potter. Go now; you're not ready for this battle." Snape grabbed Harry by the collar and tried to drag him to the fireplace. Harry was no longer a small preteen and shoved him back.

"I don't care where I am. I need to find him." He crossed his arms and glared at Snape. "And if here is so dangerous, then why was I allowed in?"

"It's set up for Malfoy, should he need to speak with me or visit me. This is the Dark Lord's lair and I daresay you're not up to the task of battling him just yet... unless today is the day you wish to die, in which case..." Snape stepped aside and held his hand towards the door.

Harry started to it. If Draco was here and needed him, then today was a good day to die. Halting Harry with his hand against his chest, Snape shook his head. "No, you fool. You don't even know that he's here."

"Where else would he have gone?" Harry swatted Snape's hand away and grabbed his wand from his waistband, prepared to fight.

Snape shook his head. "If he were here... I should know about it. I would have been informed, unless I've been compromised." He paced in front of the large bed and stopped to curl his hand around the twisting spire. "But were I compromised, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I'd be with him... unless..."

"Unless what?" Harry edged to the door and Snape laid down another hex. When Harry grabbed for the knob, he felt a vibrating shock like an electrical current running through his arm and released it. "Ow!"

"Unless they're waiting for me to come to them. Go back to Grimmauld, and if you do not hear from me within the hour, come back through if you must. I will buy what time I can for him, the rest is up to you." Snape crossed to the door and waved his wand. "_Finite_."

Snape's manner was so fatherly, so official and so automatic that Harry couldn't doubt his sincerity-- even though he wanted to. Now he was forced to realize that Snape didn't have merely perverted designs on Draco, but perhaps he had real feelings for him. He was ashamed of what he'd allowed himself to believe. "I'll... right. I'll wait."

As he felt the magical wind of the Floo start to lift him back through the network to Grimmauld, he heard Snape's door slam and Harry started to prepare himself for what might be his final hour on Earth.


	11. Chapter 11

"Harry, he told you to wait an hour!"

"It's almost been!"

"It's only been 45 minutes, mate."

Harry looked at Ron in a plea for help. He was panicked from the moment he figured out that Draco was nowhere in Grimmauld, not even hiding somewhere under his invisibility cloak. He had to be captured or lured out some way, he just had to.

"You have to face the fact that this could just be a trap, Harry. Even if Malfoy didn't intend for it to be, maybe he was on our side, but we don't know that for certain. Maybe this was the plan all along." Hermione was right, but it didn't help Harry's agitation any. Snape was also right about him needing to be trained up and not spending time playing chess with his friends.

Then again, if he was doomed to start with, maybe those happy memories with them was all he was going to get in this life. Those would be better to carry on than working. Perhaps that's why Dumbledore did things the way he had; to give Harry more time to be himself, be a child. Sure, it didn't go to plan, but what ever does?

Something occurred to him. "Wait." Harry ran up the stairs to his room. He heard Hermione and Ron bickering. At least Ron was on his side. He couldn't blame Hermione's fear but if it was all going to come to a head, today was as good a day to die as any. Maybe they'd save Draco and even greasy old Snape in the bargain.

Ron laughed at Lolly under Harry's arm. "Going to make You-Know-Who giggle to death?"

"Or are you going to infantilize him?" asked Hermione.

"He's bringing it for me," drawled Draco from behind them. "Or at least I assume that this wasn't just a grand plan to steal my childhood toy."

"DRACO!" Harry whirled around and wrapped his arms around him. Draco had a book held across his chest which came in contact with Lolly. In spite of the distractions between them, he was so relieved to have him there. "I thought I lost you. I thought you were captured... I thought... so many terrible things."

While Harry was too distraught to ask questions, Hermione wasn't. "Where have you been, Malfoy? Harry could've been killed chasing after you. Snape too."

"I didn't think I'd be gone that long," he answered to Harry, not even acknowledging the sound from Hermione. His voice remained soft and placid as they looked into each other's eyes. "You were going to bring me my toy?"

Harry blushed and shrugged. "I thought if they were hurting you... you might like it."

Draco kissed his forehead and shook his head. "No, I went to the Manor after owling Mum. We do have books on Horcruxes. The library is organized in its own fashion-- which means that the rules of logic don't apply."

"A book?" Hermione was instantly interested and moved to where the two boys were still clutching each other. She pulled the book from between them and when she opened it, a cascade of mud shot from the book all over her face.

"You should probably let purebloods open that." He smirked.

Hermione wasn't amused. "We don't have time for your little pranks, Malfoy. We get it; I'm not of pure blood."

"It's not my prank, it's the book's prank, and you did ask. Go wash up." He picked the book up off of the floor and set it open to the page he wanted. "Horcruxes are made by murder, it tears the soul apart and then you may take that half of your soul and put it into something or someone else."

Ron looked over Draco's shoulder and he stood aside for him to read with him. They crowded Harry out while Hermione huffed about stupid purebloods and books.

"We knew that much Draco."

"This tells you how to do it. And you can actually segment what parts of your soul that you want to push to the other side. Some emotions and spiritual impulses don't mix. Love and hate being the most obvious. They're like oil and water." Draco flipped to a diagram in the book.

"Like salad dressing?" asked Ron.

"That would be the common way you see it-- it separates. So this will make it easier to separate him from you." Draco smiled at Harry, who sat on the edge of the fireplace.

"Just one problem."

Draco raised his brows.

"I'd have to kill someone." Harry looked around the room, wondering which of his friends he could sacrifice.

Allowing Harry to look between them a moment while Hermione and Ron became steadily more unnerved, Draco finally rolled his eyes. "Harry, you _are_ killing someone. It's a lot to do all at once, but you can kill Voldemort and make a Horcrux."

"So... what will I... make it of..." asked Harry.

Hermione interrupted him. "It's been an hour. We need to go."

"But Draco's here now," Harry pointed out.

"Snape isn't back. We can't just leave him. He put his life on the line to save Malfoy," she argued. Ron didn't appear impressed.

"He's right. I said I'd be there in an hour, let's go." Harry started to the fireplace in a rush and Draco grabbed him by the back of the collar.

"Let's go... slowly. Quietly. See what we're up against and if there's a trap. One of you needs to stay here. Granger? You'd be the most likely to know how to reopen this if they close it, right?"

Hermione did not appear to be pleased with taking orders from Draco, but she was the most likely to be able to do that.

"I have to go as I know how to make the Horcruxes work. Ron, you're lookout. Harry, you're bait."

"Hermione, try and contact the Order," Harry ordered. "Please?" he added, seeing her disgruntled look. She nodded.

Ron climbed into the Floo first, then Draco and then Harry. Emerald flames plumed at Harry's direction of where to go and they were in Snape's room. Quickly they formed a line against the wall and after checking the corridor and finding no one in it, they crept out.

They gestured in nods and meaningful blinks and winks. Though this had never been worked out, they understood one another. Their wands were at the ready as the slipped down the stone wall corridors. There were so many doors, doors that could lead to everything and nothing and probably did. It felt like a maze if only because it was straight and long, but you never felt like you got anywhere. Ron stopped them in front of one of the doors. Harry heard voices.

"We will hear them when they come, Severus. Alarmed about the younger Malfoy," the high, cold voice said. "They will come on angry feet."

"But it has been an hour, My Lord. We have no idea where Draco has gone to. He could show up there."

"That would be poor luck for you, Severus. I promised you could own the boy should this work, but if he is combating alongside them then I will have no choice. Now, be gone and monitor your room."

Harry unfurled his invisibility cloak just in time to keep them from being seen. On the bright side, it would seem that Snape wasn't in any danger. Draco didn't seem terribly impressed with the notion of being owned.

"What should we do?" asked Harry after Snape had gone down the hall.

"We'd definitely have the element of surprise right now," Draco pointed out.

"On his turf," Ron added.

"I'm not sure that there will ever be a chance like this again. He's expecting us, but he thinks he'd hear us and he hasn't. He's alone in his study. We should end this now," said Harry.

"So this is it?" asked Ron, finally coming in. "I'll go in first, get the first round. You two... get ready with the... Horcrux... thing."

It was a crazy, lousy plan, but it was their plan.

Harry and Draco flanked Ron and Ron hexed open the door.

Lord Voldemort was sitting on a large throne-like chair. It was square at the bottom and then fanned out in a complete circle covered in serpents, metal serpents that writhed and wriggled behind him. "Finally, you have gathered the courage to come."

Harry brought up his wand. "I've come to kill you. _Avada Kedavra_." The green bolt of light struck the empty chair, setting it on fire.

"Oooh, but it's not that simple, is it?" Harry heard the smooth voice behind him and he whirled around. But he was gone. Again. Behind him, he heard a word that filled him with that sick, sinking feeling when you realize your mistake.

"_Crucio_!"

"_Protego_!" Ron's shielding charm mitigated the pain at least somewhat, or maybe that's just what Harry fancied as he spilled to the dusty, stone floor. He heard Draco shout something unfamiliar and suddenly the pain dulled and ebbed away.

"Good, but slow Malfoy. I could help you with that." Voldemort was standing in front of his throne, Draco's wand was swishing, his eyes unfocused with intent.

"_Stupefy_!" Ron shouted.

A loud pop sounded near Draco, obfuscated by the loud roar from his wand as a putrid orange flame decimated Voldemort's throne, again barely a second too late. Harry rolled to his feet just in time to see Voldemort grab Draco from behind. He twisted Draco's wrist around so that his wand pointed at his own face. Draco shook visibly.

"Very dark magic, Malfoy. Your father would be proud. I could teach you more. Better spells. There is only so much you can learn from books, my boy." After a pause where Draco didn't budge, Voldemort purred, "_Imperio_." The spell poured from Draco's own wand. "Now, kill Potter."

Draco pointed his wand at Harry, but to everyone's evident surprise, he stomped Voldemort's foot and tried to jerk away. Unfortunately, the gambit proved fruitless. Voldemort didn't even flinch. Instead, he whipped Draco's wrist around again. "Foolish boy. Now you shall know the meaning of disfigurement."

"No!" Harry started forward, but Ron grabbed his upper arm. Apparating to just before Voldemort and Draco, he grabbed Draco's wand and threw it to the ground.

In a startlingly quick movement, Voldemort pitched Draco to the side and grabbed Harry in his stead, whipping him around to face Ron.

Scrambling to the floor, Draco grabbed his wand and Apparated, Lolly, book and all to a few feet from Ron. He was wild-eyed when he recognised the position he'd left Harry in.

"The tides have turned, Potter. Choose which of your friends you wish to see die first," Voldemort hissed, tightening his grasp on Harry's waist, sickeningly clammy skin radiating through his t-shirt.

This was the end. It wasn't how he had ever foreseen it. Part of him held out hope that someone would come to their aid, but he had the sinking feeling that his luck had finally run out. Ron and Draco looked back at him helplessly. "I love you, Ron." Lolly obscured the book Draco was clutching to his chest. "And I love you, Draco. I love you both so much. I'm so sorry."

"I love you, too Harry. If we have to... well, I'm glad we're together." Ron turned to Draco and gave him a quick nod. "I love you, too Draco. It's been... well, you make Harry happy and... we tried."

Whether Draco was frightened of near death or Ron's assertion that he loved him, it was hard for Harry to tell. Draco looked back and forth between them, and then to Voldemort, which made him shrink back.

"Your choice is clear, then," said Voldemort, pointing his wand past Harry's head at Draco.

"I love you, Harry!" Draco said in a panicked voice, clutching Lolly against his chest. Harry wondered if this was a last-minute gambit to add a precious few seconds to his life.

Draco's eyes were glassy and his face pinking. "I mean, I think I do. I don't really know. It's... I... this isn't how I ever wanted... I just needed more time. More... I thought we'd..." he trailed off and looked pleadingly into Harry's eyes. "Time."

"It's fine, Harry. Choose me to go first." Ron stood proudly, chest out, ready to die.

"I love you, Ron!" Draco babbled. Harry was rather surprised by this, and while he wanted to doubt the conveniently-timed sincerity, Draco certainly didn't have to admit anything at this point.

Ron rolled his eyes initially but then graciously nodded and gave Draco a weak smile in return.

"Choose," Voldemort ordered.

How was he supposed to choose? Draco was so scared and Ron was ready, but Harry couldn't pick one to die before the other. He didn't want either to die. Not for him, not for any reason. "I can't. I won't."

In response, Voldemort gurgled. Gurgled? He looked at Draco, whose eyes were narrowed at the spot behind him. Voldemort's grip on him tightened and then slackened. Harry looked to Ron, who was staring just as keenly at Voldemort.

Harry jerked away from the man's grasp and whirled around. The movement unbalanced Voldemort, and he tumbled onto his arse. His skin appeared to be disintegrating, blood the angry dry colour of a clot pumped through easily defined veins. It looked like it was boiling.

Voldemort's face plumped and reddened. A blood vessel near his flat nose burst and the air hissed with heat and the smell of boiled copper permeated the room. Screaming, Voldemort dropped his wand and shrieked at his spindly hands that resembled veined sausages. "What did you do to me, boy?"

"Quick, kill him!" Draco sat a couple of feet away from the body and was opening the book. Lolly sat next to Voldemort as if in mockery.

"Malfoy, he's dying already." Ron glared at Voldemort, but his visage was tinged with sympathy for his obvious pain.

"It is no matter, I will return," Voldemort gasped.

"Which is why Harry needs to kill him now, before he's dead and then Harry has to kill someone else." Rolling his eyes, Draco leafed through the book till he found the correct page.

"What?" Harry's question was echoed by Ron and Voldemort's. "If he's dying then why would I need to kill anyone but myself after this?"

Draco pointed on the spot on his forehead where Harry's mark was. "Horcruxes are made when you commit murder. It splits your soul. If we split your soul right, then we can put V-V-" Draco looked at the suffering man, but still dared not say his name. "His soul into a Horcrux and destroy it without killing you."

"What would you use as a--" Harry looked at Lolly who had fallen on her side. It was Draco's toy, his childhood, what his mum brought him. Clearly it had great value to Draco, and he was willing to give it up for him. Harry was touched.

Shrugging, Draco said, "I haven't been sleeping with her much lately, anyway." He blushed and paid closer attention to the book.

"What book is that?" Voldemort was lying on the hardwood floor, blood was leaking from several ruptures. Lolly's white fur was tainted with the boiling blood. Draco wriggled back to avoid scalding.

"You left it with my father," said Draco, holding it up triumphantly.

"You couldn't have found my other..." Red eyes wide in comprehension, Voldemort made his final attempt to do damage, lunging at Draco.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" The spell was instantaneously out of Harry's mouth. He was a murderer.

Draco picked up chanting immediately, his wand flourished in the air and Harry felt a rush of anxiety as he saw many copies of himself in varying shades of translucence. Some were very, very dark, and some were shining and bright like a Patronus. Draco summoned together the darker aspects. The language he spoke was unfamiliar but Harry's soul, or the fragments of it, seemed to speak the language and were having a conversation.

Standing, Draco's tone became terse, almost threatening. Harry looked to Ron, who was staring in utter fascination at the proceedings. It was a relief that he wasn't the only one in the dark. Out of the circle of his darker selves formed a coiled, angry snake with bright eyes and huge fangs. It grew larger, crowding the room with its influence. Draco paled.

"It's all right, Draco. We're here." Harry didn't know what to say to him to soothe him, but that appeared to work.

He watched as Draco steeled himself and pointed his wand at the blood soaked unicorn. Her fur was matted, tufts had turned pink through soaking and she suddenly looked much more menacing than friendly. Draco gave the command two more times before the thing started to respond and funnel itself into Lolly.

Harry closed his eyes as he felt the lighter reflections of himself, along with the darker came together, pushing into him, each with the force of life, pushing his body with the force of each reentry. He opened his eyes just in time to see the last of the serpent coil into Lolly and Draco collapse.

"Draco!" Snape's voice had never been more unwelcome. He rushed to Draco's side.

His limbs wouldn't cooperate and Harry felt the odd disorienting sensation just before the pain in his knees told him he was falling down himself. "Ron... don't let him..."

But Ron was looking to the door. Harry managed to turn his head enough to see Remus and Tonks rushing through, red hair flashing behind them signaling that the Weasleys were also there. The Order. Now he could sleep.

--

Harry awoke to Ron and Hermione bickering over his bed. Some things never changed. He listened to the argument that seemed to stem from Ron's lingering gaze on Tonks's arse.

"If he's grinning, he's awake." Ron grabbed Harry's arm and shook him playfully.

"I'm not grinning, I'm wincing." Opening his eyes to the familiar surroundings of his room at Grimmauld Place, Harry was grateful he wasn't at St. Mungo's. "Malfoy?"

"He's asleep, but he woke up a few hours ago demanding tea and biscuits so I assume he's fine." Ron grinned, although Hermione was still shooting him death glares.

"How long have I--"

"A few days. You missed most of the celebrations, I'm afraid." Hermione eyed Ron. "Some of us had too much butterbeer and got--"

Ron piped up with, "But the brilliant part is that the Healers were willing to come here so you wouldn't have to wake up at St. Mungo's."

Harry grinned and nodded. "So, how did we... I mean... he just... fell apart?"

Sitting up, Hermione looked as if she'd been waiting to show off her knowledge. "The best that we could deduce from what Ron told us was that the blood that Voldemort had infected himself with when he took it from you responded to the bonds of the love you three shared. There being power in a certain number, three must've been the one that activated that old magic." Quite pleased with herself, she prattled on. "It's almost ironic that Voldemort's fascination with numbers ended up his undoing as well as his lack of understanding of love or blood sacrifice. Three is as powerful a number as seven according to ancient texts."

"That's..." Harry started.

"I know, I'm not sure what to think," said Ron, scrunching his face in mock disgust. "Malfoy loves me."

"That's weird, too, but not what I meant." Harry smirked. "I suppose three Horcruxes would've been too easy."

"Be glad he didn't choose thirteen," Hermione teased.

Harry chuckled half-heartedly. "I guess I should also be glad you got a hold of the Order."

Hermione gave a true wince. "No, I didn't."

"Who did, then?"

"Snape." Hermione took a breath. "I was about to summon the Order when Snape came flying through the Floo and sent out his Patronus, which is a wolf, isn't that weird?" Harry waved his hand. It was weird, although if he were afraid of Lupin, maybe he thought another wolf would protect him? Harry couldn't be arsed to care right now. "Anyway, they all showed up in minutes and flooded in."

"Which side is he on?" Harry asked.

After a moment's silences and traded glances, Ron answered, "His own, I'd wager."

There appeared to be something else they wanted to say, but right now Harry wasn't sure he could handle it. He wanted his life back to normal, or at least back to the magically normal way it had been. Or what he'd at least thought of as normal. Maybe what could be normal without a bloodthirsty dark wizard hell-bent on killing him would be. The thought of not having this looming responsibility over his head and just concentrating on his studies (or not concentrating) like everyone else cheered him. "So we can go back to Hogwarts?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. That was never a good sign. "Not yet."

"Is there still a Hogwarts?"

"Of course, Harry, don't be silly." Hermione shook her head, her bushy hair blocked the light and Harry blinked to get his eyes to adjust. "It's just that... well, some of the Death Eaters escaped before the Order arrived and there have been a few riots. It's not safe for you to go out just yet."

Harry's heart sank. He thought once he'd killed Voldemort that this would be all over. He brought his hands up to his face. "It's never going to end, is it?"

"Don't worry, mate. The Ministry is rounding them up. Kingsley brought in Bellatrix just yesterday. Nasty bit of work, that one. Just needs some time to settle down." Ron patted Harry's elbow.

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling the weight of his stunted victory oppressing him. "I need s'more rest."

"Harry, don't let it discourage--" Hermione started.

"Please."

He watched Ron tug her arm and they both left. Harry rolled onto his side, pulled the covers up and wept softly. He was a murderer and still the world wasn't safe.


End file.
